


We Will Forever Remain United

by authoressjean



Series: The Bonds of Brotherhood [4]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Big Brother Dean, Big Brother Lucifer, Big Brother Michael, Big Brother Raphael, Brotherhood, Brotherly Love, Dean Winchester and Sam Winchester Use Their Words, Dean is Michael, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Gen, Hurt Castiel, Hurt Dean Winchester, Hurt Lucifer, Hurt Sam Winchester, Hurt all Around, Hurt/Comfort, I am warning you now, I mean heavily messing with it, Lucifer Falls and Becomes Sam Winchester, Michael Falls and Becomes Dean Winchester, Michael and Lucifer are good siblings, Post-Season/Series 04 AU, Protective Dean Winchester, Protective Michael (Supernatural), Reincarnation, Sam is Lucifer, Season/Series 05, Season/Series 06, Season/Series 07, Season/Series 08, Season/Series AU, Spirit Walking, Temporary Character Death, messing with canon, suicide-like attempt, temporary major character death, that tag still doesn't get old, warning for character death, warning for technically suicide attempt
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-05
Updated: 2021-03-05
Packaged: 2021-03-08 01:42:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 28
Words: 109,677
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26843836
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/authoressjean/pseuds/authoressjean
Summary: Sequel to "We Will Always Go Together."Though Heaven's been cleared of the deadly prophecy, that doesn't mean that it's safe: a rebellion is threatening the peace that the archangels have fought so hard for and undoing all that they've fought for.Never mind the threat that Abaddon poses, with a plan that goes beyond Asmodeus's ambitions and may swallow the world whole. With Sam and Dean still trying to find their equilibrium and what they need to heal, there may not be enough firepower to take on what stands between them and peace.But there are other connections being made, uniting those who would otherwise fight each other, creating unlikely allies across the board. New power will rise and forever change the future.And in the end, no matter what the cost, sacrifices will be made to save loved ones. Sacrifices that may forever change two brothers determined to stand together.
Relationships: Castiel & Dean Winchester & Sam Winchester, Castiel/Meg Masters, Dean Winchester & Sam Winchester, Gabriel & Dean Winchester, Gabriel & Lucifer & Michael & Raphael (Supernatural), Gabriel & Sam Winchester, Jo Harvelle/Ezekiel, Lucifer & Michael (Supernatural)
Series: The Bonds of Brotherhood [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1476563
Comments: 536
Kudos: 176





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> As far as the fic goes, PLEASE read the tags. Yes there is major character death (and minor character death). Yes it is hella temporary (well the major character death is temporary; other deaths are not). Yes I will give chapter warnings when the time comes. Yes I will make it better. Please trust that I have not permanently injured characters grievously and do not intend to do so in the future. If it ain't happy, it's not the end.
> 
> As usual, I am going to muck with canon like woah. Expect nothing to go as canon designed it.

“I hate to do this.”

Heels moved in an effortless glide across the floor. Ruby red lips parted in a slow, silky smile, and perfectly dusted eyelids lowered slightly with her gaze. Her elegant dress swept over the floor, catching in the dirt and blood.

The demon before her looked anything but pristine in comparison. Welts on his face and blood streaking his skin made his shivering all the more pitiable. Too bad she wasn’t in a pitying mood.

“I really do,” she said, her voice echoing a little in the old mill. “But I need answers. And I’d prefer them, oh, yesterday. So you can understand how I truly _hate_ to do this to you.”

“N-No one knows,” the demon insisted. “Your imminence, I have nothing for you. We’ll stand with you, you know we will.”

“So why haven’t you done the single thing I asked of you?” she asked, and her eyes went swirling into black. “I only asked for a single thing and you’ve failed me in this task. It makes a soon-to-be Queen feel _very_ unloved.”

The demon winced as she stopped in front of him. In an instant she had hold of his face, fingernails digging in and drawing even more blood. “Give me what I want to know,” she hissed. “I’m only asking one more time. Where. Is. He?”

“…here, somewhere,” the demon gasped. “That’s all we know. Archangels aren’t the easiest to track but we can only find one right now. And it’s not him.”

With a snarl she twisted his head clean off, forcing the demon inside to vacate the shell. She caught hold of his tail as he tried to flee, and sparks of red lightning shot through the black smoke. “Not the right answer,” she said, and with a single clench of her fist the demon smoked out into oblivion. Her eyes swirled to a milky gray, then faded out to black once more.

When she turned, the other three demons who had stood watching froze under her gaze. She smiled at them serenely. “You won’t disappoint me, will you?” she asked. “Not your soon-to-be Queen?”

“We’ll find him,” the first one insisted. “We swear.”

Her smile disappeared in an instant. “Then go and find Lucifer, _now_ , before I get it in my head to smite all of you!”

They took off, disappearing in a trace. With a sigh Abaddon turned back to the headless body and made a face. “I’ve got to learn a better way of doing that,” she muttered. “Blood’s hell to get out of the clothes. And this is such a _fine_ thing I’m wearing.”

Henry would show up sooner or later. Then Lucifer. Then the throne.

And if she needed an army, well, she knew how to get one of those.

She glanced over at the nearby table and smiled. She had most of what she needed. She’d get the rest soon enough. Patience had gotten her this far, and it would get her all the further.

“Watch out, Lucifer,” she said with a grin. “I’ll find you. And when I do, you won’t know what hit you.”

“I hate to do this.”

“Just do it,” Anael said, gritting her teeth.

Raphael stopped, making a face. “Truly, Anael, you don’t have to do this—"

“Yes, I do. And you have no idea how difficult it is to have this conversation with you when I have to look so far _down_ to have it.”

“You didn’t have to wear heels,” Raphael said, rolling his eyes. He’d needed maximum power to try this new spell, and that had meant taking his True Vessel. Luckily, Toni had been able to steal Evangeline away for the weekend.

Which left them where they were now, on a small hill in the middle of South Dakota, about twenty miles away from Robert Singer’s junkyard. No trees, nothing but a few rocks, lots of grassy plains, and a small herd of bison that were watching them with extreme curiosity.

Anael was still gritting her teeth, ready for the sigil. Raphael hesitantly continued with the spell, painting it on Anael’s arm, forehead, and right above her heart, where the soul of her vessel and her Grace were closest together. “Are you sure,” Raphael said, because he didn’t want to hurt Anael. Unfortunately, trial and error were the only way he was going to get this right.

“Go for it,” Anael said tightly.

With extreme reluctance Raphael turned back to the sigil, already waiting for them. Evangeline had understood that blood had had to be involved and he’d healed her up before it could so much as scar, never letting her feel a thing. It was one way he could protect someone involved.

He winced and then set his hand down on top of the sigil.

With a _woosh_ Anael disappeared, thrown off the hill top. Raphael cringed and immediately sought her out. Only 100 yards this time. That could’ve been worse.

She even flew back to him, a bit woozily and not quite tracking right. Still, when she stood on top of the rocks, she was mostly steady. “How was that?” Raphael asked anxiously.

“Not as bad as the first few times,” Anael admitted. “It felt more like a colossal punch.” Her face suddenly went pale.

Raphael quickly reached out a hand and rested it on her shoulder, and her face slowly regained color. “Nausea’s worse,” Anael said. “That, or my vessel and Grace are having problems with doing this over and over again.”

“Even with the week in between this time and the last time?” If some angels were more sensitive than others, it might explain why Gabriel managed it better than Michael.

The thought of his older brother made Raphael shut his eyes for a moment. They were safe, from what he’d understood. Currently in California, staying at one of Gabriel’s homes close to Sam’s old university, his brothers were safe as could be, and they were healing. That was the important part.

“Why don’t you go visit them?”

Raphael snorted without humor. “Was I telegraphing that much?” he asked.

Anael pursed her lips together. “You and Gabriel are dreadful. I can’t tell you how many talks I’ve had with Castiel about the two of you. Honestly, Zeke and Sidria are ready to drag you two together and make you deal with this.”

“I don’t need to be dragged anywhere—”

“They need to heal,” she said gently. “They _will_ heal. What was done to Lucifer was…”

Her eyes went a bit distant and there was genuine horror there. “They need time,” she said again. “And I have faith that they’ll find their Graces again.”

Faith. The one thing Raphael couldn’t seem to find these days. The image of his Father in the prophet came to mind, and he quickly banished it before Anael caught hold of it. That was something he absolutely did not need shared. Not before Dean and Sam heard it.

And they didn’t need to hear about any more than they already did. It was bad enough that Gabriel was compiling research for them to delve into.

“So, better, right?” Anael asked.

Raphael gave a tired smile. “Better by far. I’ll keep tweaking it. I think I’m just missing an ingredient, but I don’t know what it is. I’m just not getting it to connect to your Grace. If I had a binding agent of some sort, I think it would work a lot better.”

“You need glue, essentially.”

He raised an eyebrow up at her. “I need a very specific sort of glue. One that can morph between an angel and a human vessel as you’re both sent off. The Grace drags the vessel along with it when the sigil lights up. So something needs to glue them closer together and help keep them from making each other fly off.” Something that could shift between them. There weren’t a lot of versatile things that could handle that.

He’d figure it out.

Flapping of wings announced Sidria’s arrival. “Gabriel’s got something for us to look at back at Bobby’s house,” she said. “Are you about done?”

“ _Yes_ ,” Anael said firmly, and she took off towards Robert’s. Sidria immediately flew after her, guiding her back to the house. Dean would’ve said something about drinking too much, Raphael was certain.

He missed him. He missed Sam. But above all, he missed Michael and Lucifer.

He pursed his lips and gathered his supplies. The bison bid him farewell and he gave them a blessing for a healthy year before he left. Who knew what Gabriel had found. He was sure it wasn’t going to be pretty.

Castiel wasn’t particularly surprised at the number of angels that suddenly appeared inside of Bobby Singer’s house. Sidria was there, with Anael beside her, and the latter looked pretty green around the gills. Her Grace lurched too, and Castiel winced looking at it. Whatever had happened had clearly left her sick.

Raphael came a moment later, his child-sized True Vessel letting him shine all the more. “Hello, Evangeline,” Castiel greeted, just to see the soul nestled safely within Raphael’s Grace bounce and beam. Raphael gave a fond smile his way, his eyes already moving over to Gabriel. Disappointment flooded his features for only a moment, his Grace echoing the sadness, before he schooled his features.

A gust of wind heralded Ezekiel’s arrival. “Sorry I’m late,” he apologized, reaching out to steady a tower of books that threatened to topple in the ensuing wind. “I had a few things in Heaven to attend to.”

“Naomi?” Castiel asked.

“Still not completely with it, but getting better. She asked to see Raphael, whenever you have time.”

Raphael gave a short nod. “I’ll see what I can do. Honestly, she just needs to rest. Pushing herself is taxing her already strained Grace. The fact that she woke up at all is, well, incredible.”

“Pretty sure the word you wanted was ‘miracle’,” Bobby said from his seat in the corner. Raphael winced but said nothing. His Grace, however, darkened at the notion, anger and resentment making his edges sharper before smoothing out.

Castiel stared, shocked. Even Gabriel raised his eyebrows. “You all right, Raph?”

“I need to get Evangeline back,” was all Raphael said irritably. “What did you find?”

Gabriel rolled his shoulders, letting his wings rustle. He was far more relaxed than Raphael looked, but that probably had to do with their ‘road trip’ that he and Castiel had taken. Castiel had noted that they didn’t use a car, nor did they use roads, but Gabriel insisted on calling it that. It made Castiel yearn for the little house in Missouri with the bees. With Cain gone, Castiel had shifted to taking care of them, and he’d discovered just how much he loved it. Sam had even gotten him a book on beekeeping which had been extremely helpful.

“Where are Sam and Dean?” Sidria asked, frowning. “You were just with them, weren’t you?”

“We were,” Gabriel agreed. “They don’t need to be here for this. In fact, we were supposed to be back already when something came up. We figured you guys would want to know.”

“Why not have us meet where they are?” Raphael asked, almost petulantly. It was enough to almost make Castiel smile except he understood why. They all did, of a sort.

Ever since Sam and Dean had explained their conversation with God, and how their Graces just needed to heal, everyone had worked very hard to Leave Them Alone (Gabriel insisted it needed capital letters). To be fair, Gabriel and Castiel hadn’t managed that very well, though Castiel had tried his hardest to give them space while still making Gabriel happy in small ways. In the end, though, their road trip hadn’t been enough to settle Gabriel’s fears, and so they’d made their way to the west coast to find the Winchesters.

Raphael still hadn’t been to see them. Raphael had, in fact, kept very much to himself ever since that day, working on various potions and remedies, all of them involving Grace. The anger, the frustration, the heartache beneath it all, that had been there well before the Winchesters had arrived at the little picnic area to tell them that Michael and Lucifer were, for the moment, wingless and Graceless. Their announcement had only fueled the flames burning in Raphael’s Grace.

Castiel had tried to get Raphael to see Sam and Dean, hoping to boost his morale the same way he’d done for Gabriel, but Gabriel had actually stopped him before he could so much as ask. “He needs time,” Gabriel had told him. “It’s not just Michael and Luce, it’s a whole lot else that no one can really make better. We’ve all had our faith shaken before this, but not Raphael. Never Raph. Give him a bit.”

It hadn’t made sense. The only thing that Castiel could think of was that when God had come to visit Gabriel and Raphael not long after speaking with Sam and Dean, something had happened. Something that had left Raphael weary and furious all at the same time. It made him ache to see.

Gabriel had ignored Raphael’s petulance, it seemed, and instead pulled out his prize. He set it down on the table, and Castiel watched everyone, including Bobby, lean forward to get a better look. Somehow, he wasn’t surprised when Bobby’s eyes widened while Sidria, Anael, and Ezekiel all looked confused.

Raphael didn’t look confused. He looked absolutely stunned. “Where did you find that?” he gasped. “Gabriel, _where_?”

“I don’t understand,” Anael said slowly before Gabriel could answer. “Forgive me if it’s just the constant testing of the sigil that’s making me a little confused, but it’s just a claw.”

So _that’s_ what they’d been doing. “You think you can make something that wards off that sigil?” Gabriel asked Raphael, surprised. “Why didn’t you just tell me? I’d come help test stuff.”

“I need to test it on a lot of different angels,” Raphael told him. “It doesn’t seem to bother you as much as it does others. Anael’s very sensitive to it, so if it works for her, it should work on a broader spectrum.”

Bobby stood, waving his hands out. “Can we please talk about the damn claw that belongs to a mythical creature in my livin’ room? And again, where the hell did you get it?”

“Mythical creature?” Ezekiel asked, bewildered. “What is it?”

Gabriel sighed. “Believe it or not, it’s a dragon’s claw. They’re big, they’re a mess, and them being so active doesn’t make me happy.” The pensive look on his face matched the anxious fluttering his wings were doing.

Sidria stared. “Dragons? But they don’t exist anymore! We cleansed their kind from the Earth eons ago!”

“No, we didn’t,” Raphael said quietly. “We took most of them and slaughtered them. A few got away. We were…busy.”

Bobby pinched the bridge of his nose. “Let me guess. Lucifer?”

Raphael just gave a tight nod. “Not your fault,” Bobby said quietly. “Not his, either. The Mark’s gone now, and the Cage is done. We’ll just…deal with dragons. If you got ‘em once, you can get ‘em again, right?”

“It’s not that simple,” Castiel said. “According to what Gabriel told me, they were a creation of Eve’s. And they’re impossible to kill.”

“Not impossible,” Gabriel said, shaking his head. “I said damn near impossible. Difference. A few things can do it. Michael’s Lance can do the trick. Arthur’s blade, but I don’t really want to have to dig to find his actual crypt. There’s a few others lying around. An archangel blade should be able to do it, I think, because we technically predate them. There’s a lot of power in age.”

“Arthur’s…? No, I’m not askin’. So what’s up with a claw?” Bobby asked. It was very clear, however, that all he wanted to do _was_ ask. Castiel imagined that Sam would be much the same way. “Dragon, I got that. Eve, sort of, but probably all wrong with the lore I have at my disposal. What makes this so important?”

It was Castiel who spoke next, mostly because Gabriel was brimming with nerves. He didn’t blame him, but Bobby needed answers. They all did. “Because the claw came from a passel of demons who were taking it from a dragon in full form. A willing dragon.”

“You know how many dragons would be willing to give up one of their claws?” Gabriel exclaimed. “None. Especially to a demon. They _hate_ demons. Working with one is extremely bad news.”

“ _Where_ , Gabriel?” Raphael asked, pursed his lips. “You’ve avoided the question three times now.”

“Well, that’s because the answer is the reason that Sam and Dean aren’t in this conversation,” Gabriel said, grimacing. “Outside of Stull Cemetery in Lawrence, Kansas. It’s not good news.”

It had been a shock, to see Gabriel suddenly swoop down on their way back to California. The demons had been easy to dispatch—the dragon had taken off in a mass of leathery wings and strength. The only thing left behind had been the claw.

“Somethin’ like that would make for a powerful spell,” Bobby said.

Raphael nodded. “That’s almost certainly what it would be for. I’m not fond of the implications. Regardless of its location and its proximity to their human home, Gabriel, they need to be told.”

“That’s not letting them heal,” Gabriel shot back immediately, and Castiel raised his hands to stand between them. Raphael looked exhausted but also ready to do battle, and Gabriel was clearly rattled from the fight they’d just had.

“We knew they wouldn’t be able to heal for long in peace,” Castiel reminded them all. “Dean even said as much. We’ll go find them, we’ll tell them, and then we’ll deal with how things fall. All right?”

Gabriel glared at Raphael. Raphael just crossed his arms. Sidria, thankfully, scoffed at them both. “Honestly, you two are like human children,” she muttered. “Raphael, take your Vessel home and go see what Naomi wants; I’ll meet you there. Gabriel and Castiel will go get Sam and Dean.”

“I’ll stay here and guard the house,” Anael said, still clearly not feeling well, given that she gave her statement with her eyes closed while she sprawled in a nearby chair. Ezekiel shook his head with a small smile.

“I’ll remain with Anael to, ah, ‘help’ guard. Perhaps I can help Robert with research about the dragon claw?”

“It’d be nice to know what it’s used for,” Bobby agreed. “Somethin’ like that is damn powerful in the wrong hands, which was absolutely where it was goin’. We may or may not need to summon His Majesty and ask. Or, y’know, shoot first, ask questions later.”

“Always my favorite option when it comes to Crowley,” Gabriel said with what finally appeared to be a genuine grin. “But yeah. Let’s get the gang back together.”


	2. Chapter 2

“You better have brought one for me.”

Sam stopped. Dean just raised an eyebrow without even looking up from his book. “You don’t like their coffee,” Sam told him. They were Sam’s favorite brew and had been since he’d gone to Stanford.

“At this point, _any_ coffee is fine. I just don’t like frou-frou drinks.”

“You mean coffee with flavor?”

“Artificial flavor, Sam.”

“Oh, so like everything else you eat,” and he got flipped off for it. Sam just grinned and moved into the apartment.

Well, ‘apartment’ was a poor choice of words. Gabriel’s penthouse was just down the street from Stanford and had a beautiful view of campus, as well as most of the places Sam had frequented. It was clear that he’d been keeping an eye on Sam. From a lap of luxury, of course, but his place was definitely within eye and earshot of the university.

When they’d mentioned that they’d probably stop through Stanford on their trip down the west coast, Gabriel had given them the keys and told them to stay as long as they wanted. “Fridge’ll stay stocked, the beers always cold, and you guys can figure out where you want to go next.”

Which was where they were, almost a month later, enjoying going through Gabriel’s titles of movies and books, sitting out on the roof, eating a lot of good food, and just _being_. It was almost hedonistic, being able to sit around and do so much nothing. Well, they did a lot of talking, too, so it wasn’t exactly nothing. Compared to their usual life, however, it was definitely closer to nothing.

They were relaxed. They were sharing memories, some new, some old, some _very_ old. A lot of things got ironed out. They both had more pep in their step.

What they did _not_ have was any sort of increase in Grace.

Sam took another sip of his favorite coffee and glanced at his brother. Dean was still intent on reading what looked to be a large book on World War II. Something he’d usually enjoy. It was the way he was partially frowning that made Sam think twice. Pursing his lips, Sam stalked over and tugged the history book out of his brother’s hand. Before Dean could so much as begin to argue, the other book hidden inside came to light.

Sam immediately knew what it was and glared at Dean. Dean glared back. “What?” he snapped. “It’s not like anything else is working.”

“He said we need time,” Sam began, and Dean just snorted.

“Yeah, like God hasn’t said crap before and been wrong. Face it, Sam. Father’s whole “wait and see” trick isn’t working. Time to get involved.”

“Does Raphael know that that particular text is missing from Heaven’s library?” Sam asked with a raised eyebrow. “And last time I saw it, it wasn’t in paperback form.”

Dean made a face. “I wondered about that, too, but the bookshelf made it happen. Pretty sure Gabriel has it rigged to offer up whatever you want.”

That wasn’t news to Sam, since he’d found himself a few random first editions that he’d been dying to read that had just magically appeared, but still, books from 18th century authors were vastly different than some of Heaven’s most sacred texts. “Knowing the intricacies of Grace isn’t probably going to help,” he said quietly. “It’s not the Grace that’s the problem, it’s us.”

“No, it’s Father that’s the problem,” Dean said immediately. “Don’t you dare think it’s you.”

“Dean—”

“Look at me,” Dean said, and Sam just sighed. “Sammy, Luce, look at me.”

“Then why hasn’t it come back?” Sam asked, and dammit, he didn’t want his voice to be this small. He didn’t want to feel like a child who’d been punished with no way to come back and repent. Oh, wait, he’d done that already with the Cage. It was sort of a crap feeling.

And he still didn’t know why Father hadn’t just given them their Graces back. Even as an apology. Of course, he wasn’t sure they wanted to dive back into the mess that was being an archangel. They hadn’t really had a choice, with them taking their Graces on in order to survive Zacahriah’s attack. That’s what Father had meant.

Except almost two months later, a long vacation of cruising and driving and sitting still and enjoying, and there was nothing. No blip, no glimmer, nothing.

“Thus the book,” Dean said, waving it in front of Sam’s face. “See if there’s anything in here I don’t already know.”

“And?”

The grimace he got told him everything he needed to know. “You sort of contributed to that text,” Sam pointed out. “We both did.”

“Hey, human brain here.”

“Human brain with a massive amount of archangel memories.”

“You could go back to college, pass every exam they give you,” Dean said with a grin. “I still think you should.”

“Pretty sure that counts as cheating,” Sam protested. At least, it did by his standards. Besides, learning new things was part of the pleasure of education. Not that Dean thought so.

Dean shrugged. “You could teach them. I mean, how many of them could debate theology like you?”

“Now that’s _definitely_ cheating.”

“I’m just saying, no one else would

_Eyes black, red hair coiled up like a 1950’s housewife, party dress stained with blood. The body in front of her is already headless. “Keep disappointing me and you’ll keep ending up here,” she says. “Where is he?”_

_“Your majesty—”_

_“Don’t you give me that until you’ve found me the human out of time or the archangel I want. Any of them would do, but the one I want’s got a bit of a downward disposition.”_

_“We can’t find him, Abadd—”_

_“Get me Lucifer, now!”_

“Luce? Sam? Sammy!”

Sam blinked and blinked again. The last he remembered, he’d been standing up, coffee in hand, talking with Dean. Not laying sideways on the floor, coffee seeping into his pants, headache blossoming throughout his head, Dean kneeling in front of him. Dean’s eyes were wide and full of fear, but he instantly settled the minute Sam focused on him.

He wasn’t the only one who settled.

“Gabe?” Sam said, the name slurring. “Cas?”

“Easy up, Samshine,” Gabriel said. With a snap the coffee was gone and Sam’s pants were dry. The headache stayed. “Not how I expected to find you.”

Dean carefully caught him behind the shoulders and Castiel took hold of one of his hands to haul him up to sitting. Gabriel stayed in front of him, smile a little softer than usual. “How’s the head?” he asked.

“Hurts,” Sam mumbled. “What happ’ned?”

“Kind of hoping you could tell us,” Dean said. “One minute, you and I were talking, the next, you went down. For like five whole minutes.”

“Didn’t seem that long on my end,” Sam muttered. The more he sat up, with Castiel and Dean supporting him, the better he felt. The headache was still there, though. “Gabe, at the risk of sounding like a whiner, make it go away.”

Gabriel winced. “Wish I could, Sam-a-lam. But anything involving psychic energy, I can’t really do anything about. I can put you out, that’s it.”

That got a frown from Dean. “Psychic? You sure?”

“I tried to heal it twice already. I’m sure. What happened, Bigfoot?”

Sam scowled. “I’m not fond of that name. Try another.”

“He-Who-Frightens-His-Brothers-For-No-Damn-Reason?”

“I like that one,” Castiel agreed. “That one’s very apt.”

Sam felt like sticking out his tongue. Still, Dean was relaxing, shoulders coming down, and for that, Sam would suffer any injustice. Well, most any.

_Try Bigfoot again and see how far you get, Squirt._

“That’s not nice, Samshine. I feel like you were trying to wound me.”

Dean snorted. “What’s not nice is that you didn’t share with the class. That’s rude.”

“Before this devolves much further,” Castiel said dryly, cutting off the next retort that Sam’s aching head could manage to come up with, “maybe you can elaborate on the vision?”

Sam sighed. “A demon, inhabiting a woman years ago. They’d just killed another demon. They called her ‘your majesty’ and what sounded like the start of Abaddon’s name.” He bit his lip and added, “She was looking for me. For Lucifer.”

“Let me see,” Gabriel said immediately, and Sam let the vision play out in his memories. Gabriel’s gaze darkened before he shook his head. “Aged as the woman and her style were, that wasn’t the 50’s. The cell phone in her hand sort of screams today.”

“Sam’s visions tend to look ahead, not behind,” Dean agreed. “So what, Abaddon took a woman from the 1950’s and is still wearing her? That’s a really long time in a single host.”

“Given the lack of damage on her, I’m also pretty impressed,” Gabriel said. “At least, she looked fairly untouched, and demon or not, there should’ve been scars. I’m not sure how the heck that happened but it’s a neat trick.”

Words from the vision floated through his mind. Sam grimaced and clutched at his head. “Easy,” Dean said instantly, his grip tightening. “We’ll figure it out.”

He shook his head because it hadn’t just been him that Abaddon had sought out. “She said, “human out of time,” too,” Sam said. “She’s looking for a human who doesn’t belong in this time. That’s got to be easier to find.”

Castiel sighed. “Not necessarily. The soul might be easy to find if I knew the parameters. Those who’ve jumped through time have an aura about them, one easier to see by angels than demons, but we’d have to search for a bit anyway. There are a _lot_ of souls down here.”

Gabriel shook his head. “Archangels could see it easier. Raph and I can get on that just as soon as we deal with our next problem. That’s sort of the real reason we came.”

“Oh, so not to see your brothers?” Dean asked. “Should’ve known you didn’t just come because I prayed.”

“Oh, I came because of your prayer,” Gabriel said. “Trust me, my casual flight got a hell of a lot less casual the instant you started calling out for help. But we were already on our way. We ran into some demons hovering over a gate to Hell and they had an unusual guest.”

“How good are your wards?” Sam asked, still clutching at his head. “This a conversation for here or for Bobby’s?” Not that he particularly wanted to fly right then and there when it was with an aching head, but if it necessitated moving quickly, then he would.

Gabriel gave him a grin. “Bobby’s, just so I don’t have to repeat myself more than two times. Not that I don’t love the sound of my own voice, but it’s not exactly the world’s greatest news.”

“Which we can do tomorrow,” Dean said firmly. “Flying’s already not great if you don’t have a pair of your own wings. We’ll spend the night here.”

“M’fine,” Sam started, but was unsurprisingly cut off by everyone else.

“No, you’re not.”

“I’ve already let Ezekiel know,” Castiel added. “We’ll be there tomorrow.”

“Cool. You want something to eat?”

It was touching even while it was aggravating. The battle was already lost, though, and Sam hadn’t honestly expected anything less. The events of two months ago with Metatron weren’t exactly last year’s news yet. They were going to be a little…touchy about Sam for a bit.

And in complete honesty? Sam was sort of okay with things being a little touchy. The black that had engulfed him still haunted his dreams. Sometimes he drowned in it, Dean never finding him. Sometimes he killed his brothers.

Sometimes the black became the Cage. Those dreams, Dean unfortunately found out about, if just because he woke up gasping and desperate for warmth and air.

Gabriel inhaled sharply, and Sam realized that while Dean and Castiel had gone to the kitchen, Gabriel had stayed, and was now watching him with scrutiny. Crud. “Quit reading my thoughts,” Sam muttered.

“Quit thinking so loud,” Gabriel shot back, then made a pained face. “Luce—”

“Tea or coffee, Gabriel?”

Rescued by Castiel. “You’re a heathen,” Gabriel finally called back. “Where’s the alcohol?”

“I have beer and that’s it. You want anything else, conjure it yourself.”

Gabriel grumbled but stood, then carefully pulled Sam to his feet. Once he got Sam on the sofa, he went towards the kitchen, but he tossed back a look that said their conversation clearly wasn’t done. _Worrywart,_ Sam deliberately thought.

For that, he got raised eyebrows and a slightly upturned grin. “With you two? All the time.”

He headed into the kitchen, and Sam got to sit back and watch his brothers snark and talk, laugh and eat. For a moment, there was only peace. _I would do anything to keep it this way,_ he couldn’t help but think. _I’d do anything to keep them happy and safe._

He thought, in a way, that he’d done that with surrendering to the black that Metatron had shoved him into. He’d tried to be at peace with sacrificing himself, knowing that his brothers would do what needed to be done in order to keep him from hurting the world. He’d felt much the same, hovering over the Cage, unwilling to let Michael tumble in with him.

The only think it had gotten him had been nightmares and a loss of his Grace. _Burden,_ his mind traitorously brought forward.

Something bounced off his head, and Sam turned to where Dean was standing, looking less than innocent. “Oops,” he said. “I was aiming for the basketball hoop. The one over the door.”

The one in the bedroom and nowhere near Sam. “Come get some tea and medication,” Castiel offered. “It may help.”

“You make him sound like a drug dealer,” Gabriel said with a snort. “C’mon, Samshine, quit brooding and get over here.”

With his brothers over there and Sam alone with his thoughts, there was no contest. “Do we have any more of those shortbread cookies?” he asked, rising slowly from the sofa. His headache loomed but with tea and something in him, he’d probably continue to feel better.

“If there’s not now, there will be,” Gabriel promised, and Sam smiled and joined them.


	3. Chapter 3

It was the longest that he’d been from Bobby’s in what felt like years. Throughout the apocalypse that wasn’t, the year waiting for his deal to come up, Dean had steered them up towards Bobby’s at least once a month. Bobby had never complained. In fact, Bobby had told them more than once, “You’re late,” and then ushered them inside.

So when they landed outside of Bobby’s house, where Bobby was waiting on the front porch, Dean felt something inside of him unclench. “Hey Bobby,” he called, and he watched the man’s face crinkle up into a grin.

“About time you two joined the ruckus. Though,” and his smile dropped a little, “if we could’ve, we’d have left you two alone.”

“We’ve got news for you, too,” Sam said, making a face.

“Oh, so Winchester luck as per usual.”

“Without fail,” Dean said cheerfully, and Bobby rolled his eyes and jerked his head towards the door.

Anael and Ezekiel were already inside, but beyond that, the house was empty. “Where’s the rest?” Sam asked, and the instant they heard his voice, both angels perked up. A moment later, they were being swept up into massive embraces, and Dean could’ve sworn he felt the brush of wings against his back as Ezekiel hugged the stuffing out of him.

“It’s so good to see you,” Anael all but gushed. She stumbled a little, and Dean instantly reached out to catch her at the same time Sam did. She grinned again, but her cheeks were red. “No, I’m all right, seriously. Just, uh, still a little out of it, I guess.”

“What happened?” Sam asked immediately.

Ezekiel sighed. “Her and Raphael have been testing for a way to prevent the banishing sigil from, well, banishing angels. Anael’s very sensitive to it, so she offered herself up as a sacrifice.”

“I prefer the term ‘test subject’,” Anael said, a bit testily. Then she grimaced. “No, no I don’t.”

Dean found his lips turning up. Heaven above had he missed the two of them.

“Speakin’ of the rest of everyone,” Bobby cut in. “There were two angels that went to get you both. Where’s Gabriel and Castiel?”

“They dropped us and went to find Raphael,” Sam told him. “Something about Naomi?”

“She’s awake,” Anael said, and Dean blinked. “You didn’t know?”

“No, but I’ve got a good idea as to why we weren’t told,” Dean said. They’d wanted to give them a break, which he appreciated, and the break had been good for both of them, Sam especially. But he would’ve liked to have been in the loop about Naomi. “Is she…all right? Talking?”

“Sort of, and sort of.” Ezekiel shrugged. “She’s not made a lot of sense. Metatron and Zachariah, uh, “scrambled her eggs and poached them on top of it,” was what Gabriel had said.”

From beside him, Sam snorted. Yeah, that sounded like Gabe all right. “So, crazy then. Great. Not going to get a lot of answers out of that.”

“I don’t know that we need a lot of answers,” Anael said, but it was tentative, more questioning than anything else. “Heaven is secure and Hell is, well, as properly managed as we could hope for. The transference lines are open once more, and we made a safe exchange just a few days ago. You did that, Michael. So…what answers do you want?”

“I’d love a bow on top of everything, just to satisfy my curiosity mostly.” Dean glanced at Sam before sighing. “And…because we think Abaddon’s going to rear her head soon.”

“I gotta get the Harvelles?” Bobby asked. Ezekiel immediately perked up, and Dean didn’t miss Anael coughing to cover her grin. She’d definitely learned that from Gabriel.

“You probably should,” Sam agreed. He kept his face clear, but Dean could see the amusement in his brother’s eyes. “The sooner the better. I’m sure Ezekiel wouldn’t mind going to get them.”

Matchmaker. It soured Dean’s mood, just a little, that he couldn’t just zip the thought over to Sam and have him hear it. There was no praying to Sam. Not until their Graces ‘healed’. How much more healing did they need? What the hell counted as healing, anyway?

“Oh yes, Ezekiel would _love_ to help get the Harvelles,” Anael said, almost too loudly, and Dean pulled himself from his thoughts. Ezekiel was scowling at her, clearly understanding he was being made fun of. Dean had a feeling that Anael had heard him projecting just fine, though. Protecting Dean, even when he wasn’t Michael anymore.

_You will always be Michael. Don’t think otherwise._

Castiel’s voice heralded his arrival by a few seconds, and he rested a hand on Dean’s shoulder as if he hadn’t just appeared out of nowhere. His other hand went to Sam’s shoulder. “No residual headaches?” he asked of Sam.

Bobby frowned. “Headache? What happened?”

“That’s sort of what we wanted to talk to you about,” Sam explained. “And no, Cas, I’m fine right now. I…had a vision. About Abaddon.”

Bobby’s eyes widened. “A vision? You haven’t had one of those—” And then he stopped.

Sam managed to keep himself from flinching, but Dean knew his brother better than that and saw the twitch all the same. “Yeah. Not since the Grace. But Gabe said that I get control the visions, get ahead of the visions, so I’m hoping it’s just another psychic flare. Or something.”

“Damn straight, Samshine. And we’ll get a handle on it.”

Dean turned at the other voice he’d sort of anticipated, then stopped. Because right next to Gabriel, standing tall with Toni’s usual regal bearing, was Raphael. Raphael’s face was almost stern-looking, weary and angry all at once.

It all disappeared as soon as he looked at them, and his Grace flared in his eyes even while he smiled broadly. “Hello Michael,” he said. “Hello, bright one.”

Sam beat him there to Raphael by a half second, but just barely, and Dean clung back just as hard as Raph clung to him. There was a faint brush against his back and Dean shut his eyes tight because he _knew_ what that was. And damn did he miss being able to see them. Or having his own.

Raphael’s arms tightened. “I’ve missed you both so much.”

“He really did,” Ezekiel agreed. “We’ve all missed you, but he certainly missed you perhaps the most.”

Sam pulled back and gave him a smile. “You could’ve visited.”

“Unlike _some_ of my siblings,” and Raphael sent a scowl towards Gabriel. Gabriel just shrugged unrepentantly. “I was attempting to give you both the time you needed and requested.”

“That doesn’t mean time away from you, y’know,” Dean pointed out. “We always enjoy seeing you. Besides, doesn’t seem to have done us a lick of good. No Grace and right back in the thick of it.”

“As if that’s ever stopped you two before,” Gabriel said with a snort. Dean shot him a look and got a raised eyebrow for it. “Seriously. You two have staked me more times than I can count and that was just being Winchesters. You’re dangerous. Runs in the family.”

“Yeah, yeah, their earth parents were hunters,” Bobby said. “I’d rather they have Grace to keep ‘em safer, though.”

Gabriel raised an eyebrow. “Uh. More than just their parents. Both of their grandparents were mixed up in it.”

Dean paused. “Wait, what? I mean, Samuel and Deanna—”

“You were named after your maternal grandmother?” Castiel asked, frowning. Sam coughed, loudly, and Dean glared at him.

“Zip it, Samantha.”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“Your dad’s side was wrapped up in it, too,” Gabriel said, graciously cutting in, but he had a grin on his face all the same. Asshole. “I’m telling you, to get your lines to mingle was a big deal upstairs.”

That was all news to Dean, since he hadn’t exactly been involved in the creation of the vessels. He hadn’t been involved with, well, any of that. Samuel and Deanna had been startling enough last year, but to hear that Dad’s family had been in the hunting business?

“Well…not exactly _hunting._ ”

He frowned and raised an eyebrow at Gabriel. “What the hell other options are there?” Then he froze. “Wait, are they psychic? Or witches?”

“No, and no,” Gabriel said, and he pursed his lips. “There was a whole other contingent of researchers called the Men of Letters.”

“They’re real?” Bobby said, sounding surprised. “Seriously?”

“Were real. There’s still a group running sort of underground in Britain that are getting too big for their britches but I’ll handle it.” Gabriel made a face. “Your grandfather, your dad’s dad, he was part of the North American side of things.”

Dean racked his brain for the name and wasn’t surprised when Sam beat him to it. “Henry Winchester, right? He left Dad and his mom and never came home.” He paused and went pale. “He died on a case, didn’t he?”

Figured. Taken out while dealing with some supernatural nonsense and had left Dad behind without a father. Even with his knowledge and life as Michael, the Dean part of him still hurt to think about his dad and how he hadn’t learned how to be a dad. John had spent years insisting that his father had abandoned him, and Dean had learned to take it as gospel, never questioning it, but now…

Now it was clear that hunting had taken more than Dad’s wife. And it had taken a lot from Dean and Sam, too.

“Uh, actually…”

Slowly Dean turned to Ezekiel, who looked uneasy. “He died, right?” Sam emphasized.

“…We don’t know.”

“Okay, I wasn’t around for this, so try again,” Gabriel said, pinching his nose. “What happened to Henry Winchester?”

“We don’t know,” Castiel said, stepping in, much to Ezekiel’s clear relief. “He vanished. One moment, we were monitoring his soul, and the next…it was gone. But it went neither to Hell nor Heaven. I led the battalion myself to search for him, but we found nothing but a massacre.”

“Massacre?” Bobby asked, surprised.

Raphael leaned back against the desk and sighed. “The other Men of Letters. There were many of them; they weren’t loners like many hunters. They were a group, and they were slaughtered in the year 1958. In that time, Henry Winchester was lost. We searched but could find nothing.”

“Wait, 1958?”

Surprisingly, the question came from Sam. “You know something we don’t, Samshine?” Gabriel asked. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, I wouldn’t be surprised, but—”

“Who killed the Men of Letters?” Sam asked, ignoring Gabriel. Gabriel snapped his fingers and a party hat appeared on Sam’s head, which Sam tossed aside without even looking. Dean’s lips turned up.

He got a pained look from Raphael. “We never knew, but it smelled strongly of demonic activity. I was told to leave it be from what I thought was Father but was clearly Metatron.” The pained look changed to anger. “Not that there’s much difference, in the end.”

Dean raised both eyebrows, surprised. Sam looked shocked. Gabriel…didn’t look surprised, just resigned. Okay, that was going to be _another_ conversation that clearly needed to happen, after they followed whatever trail Sam was on.

Which, speaking of. “Spit it out, Sammy. What’s on your brain?”

“I told you, the woman I saw, the one that was probably Abaddon.” Sam pursed his lips. “I said she looked like she came out of the 1950’s.”

“But she was clearly here with modern technology,” Gabriel pointed out.

“Yeah, but her vessel wasn’t from today. Is there a chance she time-travelled?”

Dean blinked. Time-travelled? “Yeah, with the right magic,” Bobby said slowly. “But it’d take a good punch to make it happen. And that, I figure, an angel would’ve picked up.”

“Not if another angel had pulled her through,” Raphael said darkly. “If Zachariah had brought her from 1958 to today, it would explain why she hasn’t been seen in so long.”

“It’d also explain why her vessel looks perfect.” No vessel made it fifty years without getting a scar or two. Or dead.

Sam stood, not nodding, but Dean noticed that his foot was tapping. Clearly he was waiting for them to catch up. “Yes?” he drawled. “Something else you want us to know, Brain?”

“If she time-travelled, maybe someone else did, too. The ‘man out of time’ that she talked about? The only Men of Letters who wasn’t found?”

Dean stared. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” Gabriel said. “You think Henry got caught and wound up coming forward, too?”

“Now that I know about the Men of Letters, yeah, I do,” Sam said. “It would also explain why Abaddon wants to find him. He’s the last piece of the puzzle she couldn’t finish back in the 50’s.”

“It’s more than that,” Dean said, pleased that he could at least finally contribute to the whirlwind of thought. “Henry’s an ancestor. He’s got your DNA. Which means she could use him to find us. And who else does she want?”

“She wants Sam?” Bobby said, eyes going wide. Then he scowled at Sam and smacked him in the arm. “Goddammit kid, next time _lead_ with that.”

Sam all but pouted and rubbed at his arm. “There were other important things to talk about! And honestly, we shouldn’t be surprised at this point. Who _doesn’t_ want me dead?”

“Uh, all of us here?” Gabriel said, raising his eyebrows. “And a lot more besides?”

The flush on Sam’s face was at least broken slightly by the small smile he gave. He actually wasn’t arguing it, either, which made Dean feel a lot better about the whole situation. Looked like Sam had actually learned and kept a few things over the past few months.

They’d spent a lot of nights since Metatron just talking over a lot of things, over their history, over how they felt. Dean’s anger, Sam’s guilt, Dean’s over-protectiveness, Sam’s desire of safety. It all came out. And if there was one thing that Dean had fought to break down, it was Sam’s lack of self-esteem. The Cage had damaged Lucifer’s feelings of worth, and Ruby and Dean had done much the same to Sam. Undoing both was going to take time and a lot of patience.

Good thing Dean had both in spades, especially for little brothers who deserved to know just how loved they really were.

But they were getting there, getting better, and Sam knew where he stood with Dean. It felt good, being on the same page.

It was getting Sam to feel that way with Raphael and Gabriel that Dean had worried about, but it looked like they’d be okay.

“I can find him,” Castiel said, catching Dean’s attention. The angel all but bounced on his feet. “Now that I know who I’m looking for as the man out of time, I can find his soul in a way that Abaddon can’t.”

“Not yet,” Raphael said, surprising them all. “At least, not yet. I want a stronger garrison together because once we find Henry, I imagine Abaddon will be coming in right behind us, and I’d like to be prepared.”

“There somethin’ else they should be doin’?” Bobby asked.

Raphael gave a short nod. “Yes, there is. Naomi is conscious and has requested to speak with Michael _and_ Lucifer.”


	4. Chapter 4

“You sure about this?”

Sam raised an eyebrow. “As opposed to what? We wanted answers, we _need_ answers. This is how we do it.”

“Yeah, but,” and Dean stopped. Sam got it. This wasn’t exactly a fantastic way to do this. There really wasn’t a great way to do it at all.

They were standing in Gabriel’s house in Norway, a safe in-between place with plenty of warding. It was distinctly far from every other human being they cared about, also a necessity. Even wounded and possibly crazy, Naomi was still a powerful angel. One who possibly had an axe to grind with two now-human, former archangels. It wasn’t like she didn’t know that, either. Everyone in Heaven knew that they were just human, according to Anael, which made sense. Their Graces were no longer on the spectrum.

Well. They were to Raphael and Gabriel, somehow. That was more than Sam could deal with, at the moment.

“Think she’ll tell us anything we don’t already know?”

Sam shrugged. “Honestly? If she does, then we’ll know just how far Metatron’s plans extended. And I’d like to get a read on how she reacts to us.”

“You mean reacts to _you_.”

He aimed a glare at Dean who didn’t look surprised at all. “I’m not asking her to be my BFF, Dean,” he said churlishly.

“I didn’t say you were. But I know you, and I know that you want to know what others think of Lucifer, now that the reeducations are done.” Dean shrugged casually, but his gaze was sharp. “Not that I can blame you. It’s what I’m wondering, too.”

“I caused them to lose their best angel,” Sam said, pursing his lips. “They’d already lost me, big deal. But losing Michael—”

“You finish that sentence and I will come over there and beat your ass,” Dean snapped. “I thought we were past this whole thing of you being less than the rest of us.”

Even though it wasn’t anywhere close to what Sam had been feeling, his cheeks burned as if he’d been called out all the same. “That’s not at all what I was talking about. I just meant that most of Heaven is looking for a leader, and with Father out of the house, that usually fell to you. You’re everyone’s big brother, Dean. And I know how I felt without you by my side.”

It was Dean’s turn for red cheeks, which Sam sort of enjoyed in a vicious sort of way. Asshole. “They’ll manage,” Dean finally said, and Sam’s lips turned up.

_That’s not the point, Dean._

Dean’s face didn’t change, and Sam realized that he couldn’t hear anything that Sam aimed at him. Sam’s smile fell. _C’mon Grace, go already. GO. Start working again! I feel better, we both feel better. We’re ready._

Nothing happened. Why didn’t it happen? Why wouldn’t it come back online already?

A rush of wings heralded Raphael’s return, and with him was a middle-aged woman with brown hair. She looked like someone’s mother, but the flash of Grace in her eyes spoke otherwise.

Naomi.

“Gabriel and Castiel are outside,” Raphael said. “I think they’ve come to enjoy each other’s company.”

“That’s what happens when you take a road trip,” Dean said. “You get closer to the brother you share it with.”

Sam ducked his head, unable to stop the smile, because of course Dean would use that to pick at him just one last time. “Yeah, it does,” he agreed, lifting his gaze again.

Naomi was looking right at him. He wondered how he was supposed to handle this: be Sam Winchester, or be Lucifer? Human, or fallen archangel?

She’d wanted Lucifer. Lucifer and Michael, so he let himself try and be the archangel he still was somewhere. “Naomi,” he greeted, and without thinking he’d somehow straightened, standing taller, back arched in a way to handle the weight of the wings. Wings he didn’t have, but whatever, he’d handle it. He _was_ still Lucifer.

He had to be.

“Lucifer,” Naomi greeted. She glanced over at Dean, and her gaze didn’t soften in the slightest. “Michael.”

“You wanted to talk to us?” Dean asked coolly. His posture had changed, too, and that confidence was all Michael.

Naomi visibly swallowed. Sam managed to keep his grin to himself and let Dean slowly walk towards him. If there was any easy way to demonstrate just where Dean’s allegiance was, it was there in the way he settled right next to, and partially in front of, Sam. He couldn’t have said _do not mess with him_ any clearer if he’d tried.

From behind Naomi, Raphael didn’t bother hiding his smirk. _Not nice, Raphael,_ Sam thought, and watched the smirk broaden. Apparently Raphael was done being the nice one. Something was definitely up with his other older brother, but that wasn’t something Sam could focus on now. Not with Naomi starting to look a bit rattled, which was right where they wanted her.

Naomi straightened her vessel’s clothing, a button-up shirt and a gray business skirt, then nodded. “I did. Do. I do want to speak with you. Both of you. I’ve wanted to for a time.” She frowned and brushed her hair away from her face. “I’m trying to find what I needed to say. It’s…not quite right.”

He didn’t want to soften towards her, not in the slightest. But Sam’s words came out quieter, less demanding. “Did you want to talk to us before everything went wrong? Or only when you woke up?”

“Before,” she said with firm certainty. “I had time to sit and think in the room, and you needed to hear something. And then…”

And then she’d been attacked. “Do you remember at all who attacked you?” Dean asked. He’d lost the sharp edge in his voice, too.

“Oh, yes,” Naomi said, and Sam blinked, because what? “I do now. I didn’t before, but things get a little clearer every day. Slowly. I…feel as if this is what being human likes. Are thoughts usually so slow?”

“Sometimes,” Sam said. “Not always. But sometimes it is, yes.”

“I don’t know that I like it,” Naomi admitted in a small voice. Her eyes cast around to the large space, and her attention seemed anywhere but on them.

“They didn’t just scramble her, they fried her,”’ Dean muttered under his breath, just loud enough for Sam to hear. Sam nodded slowly. There was no way that they could guarantee what she said was actually valid, with as messed up as she was.

Raphael cleared his throat, and Naomi seemed to come back to herself. “That’s what I’m here for,” Raphael said. “To determine what’s real and what’s not. It’s…something I can do with her Grace.”

Right. Because Raphael had his Grace and could do angelic things like that. _You will too again, bright one,_ Raphael told him in what sounded like a warning tone. Why everyone was so determined to keep Sam from falling into anything close to bitter thoughts, he didn’t understand.

_You’ve GOT to be kidding me, Samshine._

“Quit eavesdropping and keep an eye out,” Sam grumbled. Of course Gabriel was determined to listen in. _And_ yell at Sam at the same time.

Dean shot him a sharp glance as if he knew exactly what Sam was thinking, but he thankfully remained focused on Naomi. No doubt already planning to poke at Gabe and Raph to get the full scoop. “Why did you really want to talk to us, Naomi?”

“Because you needed to know,” she said. “When you were lost the first time, Heaven was…scattered. Zachariah kept trying to get it in order, but I see now that it wasn’t really God’s will that he was putting forth. It was his own.”

“And Metatron’s,” Sam felt obliged to point out. Naomi winced but nodded.

“And his. I can’t believe that it was truly Metatron and not God creating the Word. That’s why, when I woke up and heard from attending angels what had transpired, I had to talk to you, Michael.”

“It’s Dean,” Dean said, though it was with clear reluctance. “Just Dean again.”

Naomi shook her head. “It’s not ‘just Dean’ because you were never really ‘just Dean’. Any more than he’s ‘just Sam’. As long as you stand, you are Michael. You’re just more vessel than angel at the moment.” She rolled her shoulders, one right after the other, as if she was reminded that she herself was confined to a human vessel. “And that’s a good thing, because we have need of Michael.”

“And Lucifer,” Raphael added. To Sam’s surprise, Naomi nodded.

“Yes, and Lucifer. We’ve needed the both of you for a long time.”

It was more than Sam had expected, given everything, but he felt his next breath come a bit easier. It was one thing for Dean and Gabriel and Raphael to stand by his side, but another to hear that Lucifer was needed. Was wanted.

Dean nudged him gently in the shoulder, drawing his attention back. “There’s plenty of other angels to lead the way. Raphael included.”

Another shake of her head. “I don’t mean that they’re not capable. I mean that there’s more going on. It’s not over, and you need to be Michael, not ‘just Dean’.”

Wait. “What do you mean, it’s not over?” Sam demanded. Behind her, Raphael had gone tense. “Metatron is dead and gone.”

“I knew it the moment Ariniel attended to me,” Naomi said. She clutched at nothing, and Sam could just imagine her wings fluttering anxiously behind her. “The fact that it was Ariniel said it all.”

Now even Raphael looked bewildered. “Ariniel has had her reeducation undone. She is not dangerous.”

“To us, no,” Naomi said urgently. “But to humanity, she is. No reeducation is going to undo that.”

Dean glanced at Sam, as if hoping for Sam to have bought a clue as to what was going on. Tough luck on that: Sam had no idea what the hell Naomi was going on about. His head felt like it was spinning and he furrowed his brow as he thought. “If Ariniel is dangerous, then yes, that’s something we need to know.” That much could be agreed upon. Still, from the look on Raphael’s face, he hadn’t truly pegged Ariniel as needing to be locked up. Which meant that Naomi’s growing anxiousness was still unexplained. “What does she have to do with Metatron’s plans?”

“It’s not about Metatron’s plans! You don’t understand,” Naomi said, almost desperately now. “This isn’t over. It was never going to be over with just Metatron.”

“So Metatron had backups in place,” Dean said, fuming. “We figured. Because why not.”

Naomi shook her head. “They weren’t backups, Michael. He didn’t _need_ backups. He just needed to _speak._ ”

Maybe he wasn’t Lucifer anymore. Maybe he really was just Sam Winchester. But just Sam Winchester was still able to read between the lines and make the connections when it mattered, and what he heard was enough to make his stomach shift. “Who?” was all he asked.

“Wait, what?”

“I don’t understand.”

Sam waved off both Dean and Raphael, because the wide eyes from Naomi said he was on the right track. “Who else was Metatron counting on to lead the others?”

“He had someone else primed?” Dean asked.

No. No, he’d never needed to. “Zachariah, Uriel, they weren’t anywhere close to the only angels that hated humanity and thought we were monkeys. There were plenty of angels who’d happily get on board with that thought. Probably plenty more who’d happily carry out ideas of mass destruction.”

“Tabbris was one of them,” Naomi said, crestfallen almost. “I should have seen it, expected it, I suppose. He used to be so faithful to God’s message. He used to care. But…that changed. Many angels went cold when God’s light wasn’t there to warm them.”

“His light wasn’t all that warm to begin with,” Raphael snapped, and wow, there _was_ something going on with Raphael. What the actual hell? Sam glanced over to Dean who had the same look on his face.

This reminded Sam too much of their temporary farewell at the scenic stop before they’d taken their road trip, Gabriel hunched in and miserable, Raphael all but burning with righteous anger. Except it hadn’t burned out. It looked like it’d only gotten stronger.

Fine. Sam would needle it out of him. After they figured out what the hell to do with the new information they had.

“Where is Tabbris now?” Dean asked.

Naomi shrugged. “I suppose I should’ve been smarter about it. I should’ve given him what he wanted, played him when he came into the interrogation room. But I finally spoke the truth. I chose my side. And Tabbris…” She shuddered.

Tabbris had nearly killed her for it. He supposed he ought to feel some sort of sympathy for her. It didn’t exactly give Sam warm fuzzies, though, because she’d helped reeducate a lot of angels, starting with his second big brother. And that was almost unforgivable.

A brush of something against his shoulder reminded him that said big brother was right there and probably listening in to his thoughts. _Only because you have a nasty habit of shutting us out, bright one,_ came Raphael’s quiet voice through his thoughts, but with it also a feeling of warmth and fondness. _Your anger at Naomi on my behalf is more than touching. Thank you, Lucifer._

“So now what?” Raphael asked out loud. His face gave away nothing of the fondness he’d just shared with Sam. “What do you want us to do with you, Naomi?”

“If you’re going to lock me in the prison with the likes of those such as Gadreel and worse, I’d appreciate a better guard,” she said, but it wasn’t with scorn. Simply stating a fact. “Tabbris still has a great many connections in Heaven. I don’t know how many are silent supporters of the mindset he’s following.”

Who knew how many hated humanity? Apparently quite a few. “Naomi, can you make a list?” Dean said, thinking along the same lines.

Naomi nodded sharply. Then she glanced at Raphael, looking pained. “I…was misled, Raphael. I’m sorry.”

Raphael seemed to finally thaw a bit and merely nodded. “We do need Michael,” Naomi continued, a bit hesitantly. “If anyone has a chance of pulling the rogue angels back, it’s going to be Michael.”

“Agreed,” Raphael said. “But having names for him to approach will help further that discussion along.”

He reached out to Naomi, but Sam held up a hand, making Dean and Raphael both frown. They had no clue what he was about to ask, but it needed to be done. Because there was one piece of the puzzle that he still didn’t understand. Naomi frowned at him. “Do you remember, what you said?”

She tilted her head to the side, clearly confused. “Before you went under,” Sam said, and he could still see Anael’s hesitation, could hear the words clear as a bell. “You told Anael my name, and said, ‘His will must be done.’ Do you remember that?”

Beside him, Dean had gone tense, and Raphael’s hand had tightened into a fist. There was an echo of a curse somewhere outside, which meant that Gabriel was still listening in. Sam ignored them all in favor of Naomi’s answer.

Naomi slowly nodded. “I remember telling her that, yes.”

When nothing else came forward, Sam tried again. “Okay, but what did you mean? What did that mean?”

“Anael has always been close to you,” Naomi said simply. “I knew I could rely on her to convey the message to you.”

Sam blinked. “Wait. That message was for _me_?”

“Yes,” Naomi said. “I told her, ‘Tell Lucifer: His will must be done.’”

Dean finally, gratefully, stepped in before Sam completely lost it. “Naomi, whose will were you talking about? God’s? Metatron’s?”

“It better not have been God’s,” Raphael said, and there was some bite in his voice that startled Sam. Even as he watched, Raphael’s Grace flared in his eyes. “I can assure you that God has had no part to play in this.”

No part to play? And no calling him Father? Sam stole a quick glance at Dean and got the same confusion. What the heck was that about?

“No, not at all,” Naomi said, cutting through his thoughts, and she seemed surprised at their continued askance. “I meant yours, Michael.”

It took a minute to process that. “What?” was all Dean came up with.

“Your will,” she said, and she dug the toes of her shoes into the carpet beneath her. “Your will,” she murmured, quieter now.

Raphael slowly reached out and put his hand to her shoulder. “We’re not going to get anything else out of her,” he said. Already Naomi had focused on the carpet, still murmuring under her breath. “The fact that she was this lucid for this long startles me. Her Grace is taxed. She’s clearer when she’s got some strength.” He paused, then gave a short nod. “Gabriel and Castiel are on their way in. I’ll be right back.”

He took off in a gust of air, Naomi disappearing too. It left the two of them standing in the middle of Gabriel’s living room, silent and alone.

“I meant to ask her about Pennsylvania, too,” Dean growled, and Sam startled at the venom in his tone. “She set Gabriel up, and now _this_? Lucifer has to obey me for some reason?”

“If it helps, I don’t think I’ve ever really done that,” Sam joked, but his mind took him back to Ruby, the remembered taste of demon blood making his stomach churn. He hadn’t listened to Dean at all for that, and the world had nearly paid for it. Maybe obeying Dean wasn’t such a bad thing, after all. It had to be somewhere near the top of Dean’s wishlist for sure.

“That’s never been something I’ve wanted.”

He glanced at Dean, who again seemed to be reading his mind. “Sure you can’t read my thoughts?” Sam asked weakly.

Dean gave him a firm glare. “I can read your damn face. And no. I want a lot of things, Sam, but your immediate obedience has never been one of them. I’m not your drill sergeant, I’m not your boss. I’m your big brother, I’m your best friend. You listen just fine, when you’re not being manipulated and turned into something you’re not.”

Like Metatron. Sam swallowed hard. “Kinda tired of being someone else’s pawn,” he murmured.

A hand rested on the back of his neck, tugging him down until his forehead tapped against Dean’s. “Kinda tired of you being dragged around and hurt myself,” he agreed. “We’re good on the whole Ruby thing, all right? Remember what we talked about back in Cali?”

“She played me.”

“And it wasn’t the world’s worst thing, being with her,” Dean said. That had been a hard admittance one night, one that Dean had come forward with on his own. Sam had been more than startled: he’d stood, mouth agape, until Dean had rolled his eyes and told him to cut it out. “She kept you alive, she kept you going. And she got us here, right?”

“And the blood was an addiction like any other addictive substance.”

Dean’s lips turned up. “Glad to know some of it sunk in. And that voicemail wasn’t real.”

“I know that, and I wasn’t even thinking about it,” Sam insisted, because he hadn’t.

“Yeah, but it was bound to come around eventually.”

Sam made a face, finally earning a grin from Dean, who let him go. “Thanks,” Sam said quietly, because it needed to be said.

The doors swung open as Gabriel and Castiel came in. “Swear to everything that’s holy, Samshine, I’d hoped the last two months would’ve put a cork in some of that crap,” Gabriel said, glaring at him. “I’m going to tattoo, ‘I’m a good person worth keeping around and my brothers fawn all over me,’ somewhere that you’ll see it on a regular basis.”

Sam felt his cheeks heat up. He glared back at Gabriel. “That’s not at all what’s going on.”

“No, because I kiboshed it,” Dean said. “It just takes time to reapply reminders.”

“I got a skillet if you want one. Great for reapplying thoughtful techniques.”

Sam just rolled his eyes. “I’m a bit more disturbed about Ariniel,” Castiel said, cutting in. “She’s not what I’d call a dangerous sort. She’s kind, and giving, and used to dote on humanity.”

“Used to?” Gabriel asked, raising an eyebrow. “Fill me in, I wasn’t around for this bit.”

“Sometime back in the 1800’s, she lost an angel dear to her. She’s steered clear of anything to do with Earth. I didn’t think she’d blamed humanity for it, but…”

But clearly she had. “How many?” Sam asked.

Castiel frowned. “How many what?”

“How many angels do you think have some sort of a grudge against humanity?”

“I’d imagine there’s quite a few axes to grind,” Dean said, making a face. “For one reason or another.”

“You’re not wrong. Prevailing thought amongst many was that humans were barely above demons, last I heard,” Gabriel said. “No clue how many actually fell into that category. Probably enough to turn their ears towards what Metatron was spouting.”

No wonder Metatron hadn’t been worried about how he was writing things: he’d known that there were already plenty of angels who loathed humanity enough to follow whatever he said. As long as they got to wipe out humanity, they were on board.

“Whatever happened to Tabbris?” Dean asked.

It was Castiel’s turn to look irritated. “We took them up to Heaven’s cells but Tabbris managed to escape with two others. I have no idea where he might be now. Sidria and I will redouble our search efforts.”

“Get Zeke on it too, if you need to,” Dean said.

Castiel nodded. “I found Zachariah. I’ll find this…this assbutt, too.”

Gabriel just looked annoyed. “Assbutt? Seriously? I’ve given him a breadth of options, incredibly savage terms, and he turns to _assbutt_?”

“I don’t know, I kinda like it,” Dean said. Sam rolled his eyes.

“Cas, just wait until we’ve gotten back to South Dakota. We need to let Bobby know. Probably Ellen and Jo, too, if Ezekiel’s got them there.” And talk with Anael again, hopefully. See if she could shed any light on those in Heaven.

With a sigh Gabriel raised his hand to snap his fingers. He paused before doing so, however, and winced. “For what it’s worth, I’m really wishing we could’ve left you two in California for a bit longer. You both deserved that.”

“We _will_ make sure you get back to that,” Castiel agreed.

“We’ll get back to it,” Dean said, and when Sam looked at him, his eyes were on Sam. “I promise. Right now, let’s make sure that the hard work we did doesn’t get undone.”

Sam nodded. “Tabbris and the others first. Then Abaddon. Then…maybe some more R&R to get the Graces back online.”

“Then hold on tight.” And Gabriel snapped his fingers.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'all have been very patient (see: end of the last big fic) in waiting to see what it was exactly that God said to Raphael and Gabriel. And why Raphael is so very pissed off.
> 
> Wait no more.

“So…all the angels still think humanity’s a stain to be removed.”

Leave it to Ellen to boil it down to the clearest point. Gabriel couldn’t help but grin even though the topic was pretty grim.

By the time they’d gotten back to Bobby’s place, the Harvelles had been sitting at the table and drinking alongside him. Anael had been missing, but given that Raphael had joined them not too much later, it was a safe bet to say that she was in Heaven, guarding Naomi.

Jo had nearly tackled Sam and Dean with her embrace, and while she’d been far subtler, Ellen’s hugs had been no less fierce. Then she’d turned and hugged Gabriel which, all right, he hadn’t really been expecting.

He still remembered the first few days after coming back from Asmodeus, Luce still healing, Michael furious, Raphael torn. The steadiest points to focus on had been Ellen’s no-nonsense kindness and Jo’s subtle warmth. They’d taken him under their shelter and had made him feel safe.

There wasn’t a thing alive that was going to touch the two women. Not as long as Gabriel drew breath.

“Not all of them,” Ezekiel said firmly. Ellen gave a fond grin, the kind that mothers usually gave, but Jo…

Jo went _pink_. Something that wasn’t unnoticed by the others, particularly Sam and Dean. When she realized that they were watching her with knowing grins, the pink went to red. “Y’all need something to do?” she snapped.

“Pretty sure I found something,” Dean said, still grinning, but he graciously let her go in favor of addressing Ellen. “Zeke’s right: the majority of angels probably don’t think that. But it’s the ones that do that worry me. Enough of them start gathering and we could be looking at some serious issues.”

“Like a civil war?” Bobby asked seriously. “Again?”

Sam made a face. “At least this time I won’t be blamed for it.”

“Nah, pretty sure we can sneak that in there,” Gabriel said. “Y’know, for old time’s sake.”

Sam scowled at him. _Watch it, little one: don’t think I forgot about your eavesdropping._

It wasn’t as fun to have to speak his side of the conversation out loud, but at least he could still hear Sam. That meant Sam hadn’t locked them out again. Hopefully, the last few months meant that he wouldn’t try that particular stunt again. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said primly, adding a hoity-toity sniff for good measure. Sam just rolled his eyes, but his lips turned up anyway.

“I don’t want to know,” Ellen said.

“I can take a good guess,” Dean said, and given the thoughts running through his head, yeah, he’d pretty much nailed it. Damn him. Seriously: the two of them were beyond dangerous. Even as humans. Maybe _especially_ as humans, because as archangels, everyone treated them as powerful beings. As humans? They were underestimated by angels and demons alike.

Poor choice on their part, but hey, Gabriel couldn’t say that demons were always the sharpest tool in the box.

A brush of wing against the back of Gabriel’s head made him tune back into the conversation. _I’m not an infant, Raph,_ he couldn’t help but send out.

_Then focus,_ Raphael chided with a bit more bite than usual. Gabriel raised an eyebrow and got a conciliatory brush of wings against his own. Raphael’s Grace was still unsettled, like a snake, coiled and ready to strike, and had been ever since Naomi had talked about Dad.

Oh. Yeah. He really should’ve expected that.

“What does this all mean for us?” Ellen asked. “I assume we’ve got somethin’ to do here, right? You’re not just tossin’ us out again?”

“No one’s tossing you anywhere,” Dean assured her. “We’ll figure it out. Cas wants to hunt down Tabbris, seeing if he can find them. Zeke, you might be a good help there in the hunt.”

Ezekiel’s smile was nearly as dangerous as Cassie’s. _You two might wanna tone down those serial killer grins,_ Gabriel sent their way, but he couldn’t help the puff of pride, too. They’d learned well and fine, his little pagan side wanted blood.

“That’s still not us,” Jo said. “Give us something to do.”

As sweet as it was, there really wasn’t much they could do on the rebellious angel side of things. However, that didn’t mean that they couldn’t keep looking for other things. “How do you feel doing a demon hunt? You might have better options than we do on finding Abaddon.”

“Or Henry,” Sidria said. “Castiel and I meant to search, but then Naomi took precedence. If Castiel’s going on the hunt for Tabbris, then perhaps we can focus our attentions on the human out of time. I can do that much.”

“Then we’ll focus on keepin’ it lower on the radar,” Bobby added with a nod. “Think I’ve got a few spells and wards that’ll keep any of your work away from the pryin’ eyes of demons. Especially if you do it in the space downstairs.”

Which meant that Sam was likely going to be doing something else some _where_ else. “We’ve got the research up here,” Dean said firmly, and Sam rolled his eyes. The brightening of his soul, however, pointed out that once again, Dean had read Sam perfectly. Wasn't like Sam had really had a chance to have any good memories of the basement or reasons to go down there, but still. He hated that it dimmed his big brother's soul, to think of it. The more they could keep Sam away from the place, the better it would be.

“There’s a lot of talk about things that don’t involve us,” Gabriel felt compelled to point out. “Raph and I can do something, too.”

Sam glanced at Dean and shared a look. It was seriously beyond irritating how they did that. “Quit it!” Gabriel snapped. “Honestly, you two can just spit it out.”

“They want us to focus on the angelic side in Heaven,” Raphael said with pursed lips. “Ferret out what information we can get.”

“Well why didn’t you just say that?”

Sam raised an eyebrow. “Because you have to do it without someone knowing what you’re doing. If they understand why, then they’ll pretend to defer to your position of authority, but then possibly report back to the others.”

Ah. That made an annoying amount of sense. It made Gabriel bounce on his toes because they’d need to be careful.

...But they could also have _fun_ with it. If they honestly expected him to be the responsible party, they were going to be seriously mistaken because dammit, he’d been responsible for a long time already and he was pretty much done with it.

Still, he couldn’t look too eager to play spy. “I don’t understand why we have to do that part,” Gabriel pointed out. “Sidria might have an easier way of sneaking around.”

“They know Sidria’s allegiance in this,” Raphael said. “It’ll have to come down to us. And since we’re the only two archangels currently safely able to go to Heaven and look for answers, it’s on us.”

Sam made a face. “You know we would if we could, Raph.”

Raph was already shaking his head before Sam could finish. “That’s not against you at all, bright one. Not in the slightest. My frustration is…elsewhere. You should have been healed.”

“We’ll get the Grace back,” Dean said firmly. “Just probably not in the next day, so this is up to you two.” He shook his head with a snort. “Another civil war in Heaven, Abaddon running around…of all the times for us to _not_ have our Graces, this is a pretty crappy one. Father could’ve cleaned up at least one mess before he took off.”

“As if this wasn’t all God’s fault to begin with?” Raphael suddenly snapped, and woah, that was some serious anger Raph was still carrying around. Probably flashing around, too, if the way Dean and Sam startled back was any indication. They couldn’t see his wings, flared out in anger, nearly shivering with rage. Well, at least, Gabriel didn’t think they could. He could. Little Zeke and Sidria could, and they looked appropriately stunned. Even Castiel looked surprised.

They didn’t understand. Not really. And sooner or later…

“Raphael, what’s going on?” Sam asked, shocked. “You’ve been nothing but furious since we’ve seen you.”

…someone was going to ask. “You’re kinda a big old ball of ‘watch out’ at the moment,” Dean agreed, but there was definitely concern in his eyes. Big brother to the very end. “Talk to me.”

“Dean,” Raphael began, but Dean shook his head.

“Dean, yeah, but I’m still Michael too, right? So as your big brother, tell us what’s going on.”

“I think they need to know, Raph,” Gabriel said cut in before Raphael could object again. “I get it, it’s not one of my favorite moments either, but they should know. We got to see their side of Dad’s conversation.”

Dean’s eyes widened. “Wait, that’s what this is about? What did he _say_ to you two?”

Gabriel didn’t bother waiting for Raphael’s response, simply pushed the memory at the group.

_One minute, they were alone in Gabriel’s house in Norway, and the next, Dad was there in their midst. He was wearing what looked to be this year’s prophet model, and he smiled at them like he was happy to see them. “Raphael, Gabriel,” he greeted. “It’s good to see you both.”_

_Gabriel found his mouth first. “Where the hell have you been? Michael and Lucifer need you, their Graces—”_

_“I’ve already been to see them,” Dad assured him. “Their Graces can heal. But that’s mostly up to them. And now I’m here with you.”_

_Raphael chuckled, but it was dark and low, startling Gabriel with how bitter it was. “You didn’t heal them, then. You want it to be like another of your games where they have to figure it out for themselves.”_

_“A good Father doesn’t ‘do things’ for his children,” Dad said, and Gabriel pinched the bridge of his nose because he was so tired of this line. “A good Father lets them—”_

_“Suss it out for themselves, we know,” Raphael said, cutting in. He glared at Dad then and stormed over until he was close enough to poke Dad if he felt so inclined, and Gabriel was so stunned he couldn’t even breathe. Because this? This wasn’t Raphael. Raph had never been so angry, but the white, hot fury of his Grace was palpable, now, and starting to sear through Gabriel’s rugs._

_Gabriel cleared his throat. “Uh, Raph…”_

_“I did not come to fight,” Dad said, all peaceful and ridiculous because the fastest way to start a fight was to say you weren’t coming to fight. “I merely came to speak with you.”_

_“Where have you been?” Raphael asked flatly. “Gabriel had a very good question, one I’d like answered myself. Your sons have been fighting for their lives, their Graces, we have been tortured, your scribe nearly killed Lucifer, and now you just show up with, what, more riddles? We need you, Father, not your words.”_

_Dad shook his head. “Raphael, I promise you, I did not know the situation for what it was. I was trying my hardest to get Lucifer out of the Cage through Amara. I have been making amends with her in order to free Lucifer. And now the Mark is destroyed, and the Cage with it. They will never be used to harm Lucifer again.”_

_Seriously? “Just the nightmares of eons left alone in there,” Gabriel said, his own hurt dwarfed under the anger on Sam’s part. “And do you know how hard it was to get that damn Mark in there in the first place?”_

_“Please,” Dad said, raising a hand. “I know you feel upset, I understand. Let me give you the answers you’re looking for.”_

_Never mind poking Dad, Raphael looked ready to deck him. “And why should we be listening to you now? You left me in their hands, you let them twist my Grace—”_

_“That device was never meant to do what it did,” Dad said, looking pained. “It was created in a fit of pique after Lucifer as a way to never lose another angel, but it was used against my children instead. The device is no longer in Heaven. I’ve removed it.”_

_Raphael went so still Gabriel could barely see his chest move with breaths. Not that Gabriel was breathing much either, because Dad was responsible for that reeducation machine?_

_“You made that?” Raphael breathed._

_Dad just sighed, like it was another toy that had malfunctioned, not something that had torn almost all of Heaven apart. “It was never meant to be used in the way in which it was. I should have known that there were already other angels in need of correction, of having their balance restored.”_

_Raphael’s Grace was starting to jerk in small spasms, a testament to how angry he truly was. The rug underneath him had started burning and Gabriel put it out with a tiny twitch of his wings. “If you’d spent a few moments doing just that, we wouldn’t be in this mess,” Raphael said, voice low and furious._

_“They’ll need to find their own way,” Dad insisted. “That’s what I found with humanity: that you can’t turn off the ability to choose without taking away all autonomy. So the angels will have to choose where to find their equilibrium. I believe that all of my angels will be better with choosing Heaven, but I concede that many have found vessels down here.”_

_“Excuse me?” Gabriel finally managed. “What are you talking about?”_

_“Humanity should never have been disturbed,” Dad said. He gestured to the world outside of Gabriel’s windows. “Heaven would not have been so lost, I fear, had angels let humanity govern themselves for a time, and angels tended to themselves. So many angels have come down now and their equilibrium, their ability to guide humanity, is getting lost amidst the wants and needs of humanity.” He glanced at Raphael. “You yourself are choosing a vessel that is not your true vessel.”_

_“She is six years old,” Raphael seethed. “I will never keep her full time.”_

_“As you shouldn’t. Your time needs to be spent in Heaven, tending to the angels who do come down for assignments. Just as Heaven’s Messenger needs to be restored to his former glory.”_

_“What about Luce and Michael?” Gabriel said softly. Because of course Dad would read the room and say, ‘Let’s distance ourselves from humanity and find ourselves back on course,’ without realizing that it wasn’t going to happen. Especially for his two older brothers._

_Dad gave a small smile. “They have a unique situation. Their Graces will return. But they need to discover that for themselves. I believe they can find a balance together. Lucifer and Michael need to find their equilibrium, what they truly want.” He raised one eyebrow at Gabriel. “And you need to find yours.”_

_“He needs to do nothing of the sort,” Raphael said, fuming, and Gabriel stared as his big brother all but loomed over Dad’s smaller vessel. “Equilibrium would be something you ought to try before prescribing it to someone else.”_

_“Raph!” Gabriel exclaimed, stunned. Was his big brother seriously telling Dad to take some of his own advice?_

_Raphael shook his head vehemently. “No, Gabriel, I’m done. You can’t come down here and expect us to rally behind you, to do as you say, when we’ve spent the last centuries, eons, without you. And in the end, we worked it out without you. We don’t actually need you, as it turns out.”_

_“You need me less than you thought you did,” Dad said. “I’m honoring that. I have things I must attend to with Amara. Other mistakes I might yet rectify. But I wanted to see you first, to speak with you. I wanted you to know how loved you are, no matter what’s gone on.”_

_He glanced at Gabriel then and Gabriel wanted to shrink back, because there was no way Dad wasn’t talking about the pagan aspect that still hung around him like a fine-fitted cloak. “You made your own way,” Dad said, gently. “I cannot fault that, my Messenger.”_

_“You shouldn’t fault any of us for anything,” Raphael said angrily. “You’re the one who created this whole mess, and now you want everything back to the way it was in an attempt to make things, what, better? You can’t reset Heaven like you did with the flood here on Earth, or with pillars of salt, or anything like that. We as angels will find our way in whatever that means, and I will help them. Gabriel will do as he pleases, and we’ll be right by his side as he does so. All of us. I’m not going to abandon him to the point where he feels more comfort from another family than Heaven._

_“This nonsense about angels having, what, a choice between all-in with Heaven or remaining on Earth is ridiculous. You’ll only foster more problems, dividing angels like that. Heaven has seen the gloriousness of choice and you cannot stuff that back in some sort of box. Especially when you won’t even be here to help.”_

_“Choice was what turned my device into some form of correctional punishment,” Dad pointed out._

_Wrong thing to say. “No, your choice allowed it to be created at all,” Raphael snapped. “Your abandoning Metatron and giving him nothing to do only encouraged his belief that he could take your place. No one can take your place, but he mimicked you long enough that no one saw the difference. Is that why you’re taking away their ability to choose? Because they chose and it wasn’t you?”_

_Gabriel could only stand, stunned, as Raphael raged against Dad. For his part, Dad just seemed willing to let Raphael stew, which was probably only pissing Raph off all the more. It left a nasty feeling crawling inside of him, listening to them argue, and all he wanted was for it to stop._

_“Please,” Gabriel pleaded, voice smaller than he would’ve liked. “Enough. Raph, please.”_

_Surprisingly, it worked. Raphael’s Grace backed off, and though the anger was still visible, it had been reduced severely. Raphael glanced at him then and seemed to flinch at the sight of Gabriel. He had no idea what he looked like, but something wet slid down his face, so he could take an ample guess. He tried to get himself back under control but his Grace wasn’t steady enough._

_Dad tilted his head, a saddened look crossing his face. “I never meant to cause you harm,” he said quietly, “especially you, my little Messenger.”_

_“That’s the problem right there,” Raphael said, voice equally quiet but no less full of wrath. “He has a name, not just a purpose.”_

_It was the loudest way Raphael could’ve said fuck you for everyone to hear. Gabriel jerked a little and felt his Grace shudder in response with his anxiety and heartbreak. Because Raphael should’ve been chided, should’ve been told off for insinuating that Gabriel was less than his position._

_The response never came. Dad just stood there, looking more human than Gabriel had ever seen him, and when he disappeared a moment later, Gabriel wasn’t even the least bit surprised. Just more heartbroken._

_Raphael spun around immediately but it wasn’t to throw something. No, it was to gather Gabriel in his arms as tightly as he could. “You are more than a Messenger,” Raphael whispered fiercely. “You are my brother, you are Michael and Lucifer’s little brother, you are our little one who shines with the might of a thousand suns. And we love you.”_

_It didn’t completely bury the hurt left by Dad, not by a long shot, but Gabriel wrapped his own arms around Raphael and clung to him for a moment. Dad was gone, and this time for a long time if he had to guess. Michael and Lucifer were without their Graces and possibly just going to be Dean and Sam forever._

_But Raphael was here. Castiel was still around. And Dean and Sam wouldn’t let him go, whether they had their wings or not. He was loved. He was wanted._

“Damn straight you are,” Dean hissed through what looked like tears, and Gabriel found himself wrapped up in his oldest brother’s embrace. “You are loved, little one. So damn much.”

He only let go to let Sam in, his bear hug enough to dwarf Gabriel. Somehow, between their sizes, it felt like being wrapped up in their wings.

“Now you know why I’m so angry with God.”

Raphael’s eyes burned with his Grace, and if they’d had theirs, Gabriel probably would’ve seen matching green and red with Raphael’s blue. “Oh yeah,” Dean said lowly. “We get it.”

Gabriel cleared his throat. “Y’know, Raph, I’ve got that rug all saved for you. Need to get you a place so you can hang it.”

The anger faded from Raphael’s eyes to be replaced with a small grin. “Of course you saved it.”

“It was fairly impressive,” Castiel said, and Gabriel was reminded that he’d sort of just deflowered several younger angels with the truth about Daddy all at once. “I saw it for myself. And can you please not use the term ‘deflower’ in regards to any of us?”

“Saving that for Meg?” Sidria asked innocently, and Castiel used his right wing to send her hair all askew. Sidria scowled at him and put it back in place with a simple twist of Grace.

“You’re such an influence,” Sam muttered down to Gabriel, but it was with a grin.

Gabriel breathed out, letting the anxiety go with it. “You didn’t say it was a _bad_ influence.”

“I would,” Castiel said, pursing his lips. “Why all of you assume that I have something with Meg—”

“Because you do,” Sam and Dean said at the same time, and Gabriel’s grin broadened.

It helped take away the wave of anxiety that lingered from the memory, of Dad tossing his usual edict around and figuring that would be enough. He understood, now, how and why Sam had rebelled with John.

A hand found his shoulder, and Raphael gave him a soft smile. “I never meant to frighten you, little one,” he said quietly. “For that, I’m sorry. What God said and did…it was beyond reprehensible.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard you _not_ refer to him as Father,” Sam noted.

Raphael’s eyes narrowed. “Because he’s not being a Father right now. When he decides to be a Father again, I will honor him with the title. But he’s left us all to deal with other messes he made, he’s no help to you or Dean with your Graces, and he was the _reason_ for this entire mess. Everything that continues to fall out will be because of him. And I have a very hard time letting that go.”

“Yeah, especially after that tidbit about the machine,” Dean agreed, and his eyes were just as angry as Raphael’s. His soul was all but vibrating with rage, but it felt warm next to Gabriel and Sam. Because of course it was fury _for_ them. Never mind Dean's own hurt he had to be feeling about Dad giving it up.

“So God’s out of the picture again, that what I’m pickin’ up?”

Gabriel froze and glanced over to where three humans stood, a little wide-eyed but obviously rolling with it as best as they could. Oops. Guess he’d projected a little too well. “Uh, yeah,” he told Bobby.

Ellen rolled her shoulders back and cleared her throat. “Well, from what I know, he’s been out of the picture for a while, and we’re all still alive thanks to those who care. Far as I’m concerned, the right people were left in charge, so that’s what we’ll keep doing.”

Ezekiel looked even more in awe of her than before, and Sidria beamed like she was personally proud of, and responsible for, the woman that was Ellen Harvelle. “Thank you, Ellen,” Raphael said, sounding touched. “Toni has said much the same thing. It’s…harder, from our perspectives.”

“Sure it was,” Ellen said reasonably, like she was tending a bar and listening to someone’s heartaches. “He’s your daddy. It’s always harder that way. But the way I see it, you all have been holdin’ the fort down and you’ll keep doing that.”

She let her gaze drift over to Sam, then Dean, before landing on Gabriel with a smile. “Besides, you got family. And we’re harder to get rid of.”

Fragile bodies that were breakable in a multitude of ways, but their souls were loud and ready to fight. _What are angels compared to souls like these?_ Gabriel couldn’t help but think. _I want them to stay this way, safe, and always burning bright. Whatever I have to do, that's what I'll do to keep them shining._

Bobby gave a firm nod. “Damn straight. Is there anythin’ in that memory that can help us with the rebels?”

“Perhaps,” Raphael said, almost cautiously. “More in the sharing of the memory than anything else, now that I think about it. It might be enough to entice some of the more vindictive angels to keep to Heaven, if just to honor God’s word.”

“If you and Gabriel wander upstairs with that memory loud enough for everyone to hear, it might also be enough cover for you to do some digging of your own,” Sam pointed out. “As well as possibly dismantle the idea of the machine and what it did for good.”

Or the idea that Lucifer was evil and still looking to damn the world. Now _that_ was an idea that Gabriel could get behind, and from the swell of Raphael’s wings as he straightened his shoulders, he was in full agreement. It’d be nice to have _something_ good come out of that mess that Dad had left behind.

“Um.”

It made him grin to watch Jo raise her hand. “Sorry if I’m asking the stupid question,” she said, “but what if…what if the only way to stop this _is_ to keep the angels in Heaven?”

Still standing beside him, both Sam and Dean froze. “What?”

Jo shrugged like she didn’t know, but it was clear that she did and she didn’t really _want_ to know. “You know I don’t think any of you want to stay in Heaven, Gabe. I’d like it way more if you didn’t, for sure. But…if it comes down to it, destroying the world, killing a ton of people and angels…I mean, is there a way to lock the doors?”

Sidria and Ezekiel both frowned in confusion, and Gabriel wasn’t surprised when Castiel looked puzzled, too. But Raphael looked the same level of sick that he himself was feeling, and Sam and Dean both looked appropriately horrified.

If nothing else, they clearly remembered just how to do the very thing Jo had recommended.

Dean swallowed. “It, uh. It can be done.”

“Last resort, from the looks on your faces,” Bobby said. Sam gave a rapid nod.

“Yeah. Let’s not, if we can.”

Castiel’s eyes widened and Gabriel was reminded of how _young_ the angel still was. He could hold his own in a battle and was a steadfast friend, but he was still a little brother and so young. “It _can_ be done?”

“It’s not a good thing,” Raphael warned. “Absolutely a last resort. But we’ll see it done, if we have to.”

It was more than Gabriel wanted to think about: being locked back in Heaven, never able to see Earth except from passing glances. Never able to walk amongst humanity, never able to see the family he’d found down here again.

Maybe never able to see Dean and Sam again, if they couldn’t get their Graces back.

It was the worst thing Gabriel could think of: torn between Heaven and Earth, again. But in that instant, he knew with startling certainty what he’d pick. It would break his heart in the world’s worst way, but he knew what he’d do. And he had a feeling Raphael felt much the same way, from the way his big brother’s eyes lingered on everyone, especially Sam and Dean.

Dean clapped his hands together. “Well, now that we’re all thinking ugly thoughts, let’s think of something more pleasant, like how to find a murderous demon.”

“Or a rebelling angel force,” Sam said dryly.

“Divide and conquer?” Raphael asked. “Gabriel and I take Heaven, you take Abaddon?”

“We’ll find Tabbris,” Castiel said, nodding to Ezekiel. “If Anael is going to stay with Naomi, then Sidria, you should stay here with everyone else.”

“Agreed. Raph, you head up, I’ll be there in two wing gusts.”

Raphael frowned at Gabriel, and Gabriel just moved his gaze to Sam. “What? Why?” Sam asked, eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“You had a vision about Abaddon, right?”

“Yeah, but I haven’t had another one.”

“Yet,” Gabriel added. “We’re going to try and get you ahead of it. I know we can get you to control it, let you see what _you_ want to see.”

Sam didn’t look convinced but Dean looked eager and incredibly hopeful, as did Bobby. “Let me at least try, Samshine,” Gabriel coaxed. “I think it’ll save you a lot of pain.”

Slowly Sam nodded. Gabriel grinned. “Awesome. Team, split!”

Between one moment and the next Castiel and Ezekiel took flight. “I don’t think that’s how that works,” Jo muttered as she turned to follow Bobby, Ellen, and Sidria to the library.

Even as Sam headed outside, Dean right behind him, Gabriel sent a quick burst of Grace to Jo, then grinned. Teased 80’s hair looked good on her. And at least he wouldn't be down here, hopefully, when she discovered it.

_Are you all right, little one?_

Should’ve known Raphael would stick around. Both Sam and Dean were waiting at the door as well, watching him with concern in their eyes. Concern for him, just because Dad had been his usually self and put the Big Plan over everyone else, including him.

In the end, though, it didn’t really matter. Not when he had his three brothers standing by his side.

He gave a quick grin, his Grace feeling warm and stupidly touched. “Yeah,” he said out loud. “I’m all right. I promise. I’ll tell you if I’m not.” Then, because he couldn’t help it, “Unlike _some_ of us.”

As one they all turned to Sam. Sam scowled at them, cheeks going red, before he stepped outside, muttering under his breath. Dean just grinned and headed out after him, but not after one last look at Gabriel. _You better be all right, Gabe._

It burned to not reply inwardly, but Gabriel just nodded. Better than all right, in all honesty, given the cluster that had been Dad’s hello and goodbye.

Speaking of the damage left behind… _Are you okay?_ he asked Raphael.

Raphael pursed his lips. “Raph,” he said warningly.

“I will be,” Raphael finally said. “I just…need time. And to have _something_ go to plan.”

That, Gabriel could understand. “Let me help Sam and I’ll be up to start snooping,” he promised. “Go check on Anael, something, anything. Don’t start without me.”

Glare finally dissolving into a smile, Raphael gave a nod and took off. Two brothers down, one brother to go.

Because something had to start going right. It had to.


	6. Chapter 6

“Again.”

Gabriel pursed his lips but put his hand out again. Sam stumbled back, but just one step, and when he straightened, his face was pale but determined. “Again,” he repeated.

Dean watched from the porch as Gabriel obliged for about the eighth time in a row. Fake visions, Gabriel called them, mental images that Sam was trying to control and manage on his own. They weren’t packing the punch that Dean had seen back at the apartment, but he was kind of okay with that, too. Last thing he needed to see was Sam on the floor, staring at nothing, not breathing. He’d had enough of that lately.

He’d had about enough of everything, honestly. It felt like the two months they’d taken to straighten things out and just rest had been years ago. And he had so many damn questions.

Abaddon, for starters. How the hell had she time traveled? Had an angel been involved? What did she want with Lucifer? And for that matter, where the hell was Henry Winchester?

Henry Winchester. His grandfather was apparently out of time and wandering around somewhere. Dean let out a woosh of air because really, he sort of missed the days when he’d been racing ghost trucks. And he’d thought _that_ was the extent of the crazy in his life.

Never mind Naomi and the fact that Tabbris had tried to kill her, that there were other angels looking for a reason to wipe humanity off the board, and that Tabbris was still on the loose.

_I meant yours, Michael. Your will._

Dean gritted his teeth. The hell was _that_ supposed to mean? What part of his will was supposed to be done? And why was Lucifer supposed to do it?

He was sure that there was more that he was supposed to be thinking about. Gabriel had mentioned something about a dragon and Raphael was still clearly twisted up about Father’s visit. It felt overwhelming. Too many things to worry about.

And he wasn’t touching the missing Graces with a ten-foot pole.

“Again.”

“Sam—”

“I said again.”

Dean glanced up and focused on his little brothers. Gabriel looked apprehensive while Sam was clearly determined to keep going. He looked ghostly white, breathing harsh, and he was squinting. Angrily squinting, but squinting all the same.

Then Dean saw the red against the pale face and immediately shot off the porch.

Gabriel’s eyes widened. “Uh, no. We’re done.”

“I can do it again—”

“Nope, you’re done,” Dean declared. Sam turned on him, betrayal clear on his face, but it only made the blood dripping out of his nose all the more obvious. The handkerchief tucked into Dean’s back pocket made quick work of the mess, and Sam startled at the red that came away. “Yeah,” Dean said, raising an eyebrow. “That’s what we meant by done.”

“I don’t feel that bad,” Sam insisted, and Gabriel scoffed.

“You know I can tell when you’re lying, right?”

Sam glared at him. Gabriel just glared back. Dean rolled his eyes and just waited.

The instant Sam tried to step away, his legs gave, and Dean just caught hold of him and kept him upright. The smirk he got from Gabriel was almost as good as the weak scowl he got from Sam. “Asshole,” Sam muttered, but he didn’t shove Dean off. In fact, he leaned in, harder than Dean had actually expected, and Gabriel quickly closed the gap and caught the other side.

By the time they had him back to the porch, his color was completely gone and they were supporting nearly all his weight. “Gabe,” Dean said, looking for healing, then stopped. This was psychic, which meant there wasn’t anything he could really do.

“Little bit too much, Samshine,” Gabriel said gently. “My fault, I should’ve stopped you when I could.”

“No, No, wanted to keep goin’,” Sam whispered, taking big gulping breaths. “Jus’ wanted to…” His face went a touch green and the next gulp was down more than in.

Gabriel immediately reached out to Sam, hand resting on his chest, and a moment later, the green tinge left his face. “Way too much,” Dean agreed, though as softly as he could. Kid felt horrible enough as it was.

“We’ll get there,” Gabriel began, then stopped, focusing in on Sam in a way that told Dean he was reading thoughts. Gabriel let out a heavy sigh. “I know you’re frustrated, but we don’t have to do it right this second. I just don’t want you passing out again, all right? What I’m asking you to do is in no way easy, Sam-a-lam. We’ll get you there. But I’d prefer the brain not burned out, all right?”

Figured that Sam would be considering himself as useful only if his powers got them somewhere. He’d worked hard to get Sam to reconsider a lot of things, but he knew that John Winchester’s voice had to be echoing around there somewhere. Psychics were dangerous, demons and anything associated with them were 100% evil, and if you were injured or weak, you were useless. It was something that Sam had fought against for years, had encouraged Dean to ignore and not put stock in, even as a kid. But it was clear that it had sunk into Sam, too.

Dean pushed some of Sam’s sweaty hair back from his face. “Let’s take a breather for a bit, all right?” he said. “This is gonna be a marathon, not a sprint. Slow and steady wins the race.”

“You don’t run marathons,” Sam huffed, but he didn’t disagree. Progress.

“Yeah, but you’ve told me enough for me to know how it goes,” Dean told him, and he was rewarded with red in Sam’s face that had nothing to do with overexertion. “See? I do too listen to you.”

“C’mon, there’s a bed with your name on it,” Gabriel said. “Or a sofa. A nap sounds awesome.”

Sam shook his head, though, and stayed on the step he was sitting on. “There’s too much to do. There’s Henry to find, Abaddon, never mind Tabbris.”

Of course he’d been thinking about everything like Dean had. “All of which are covered in one way or another,” Dean said. “Bobby’s gonna need your brains later to help put together whatever they come up with, so like Gabe said, let’s not burn ‘em out.”

“Jerk,” Sam muttered, but he let them move him up. “And ass,” he added pointedly in Gabriel’s direction.

Gabriel rolled his eyes, but there was a hint of pink to his cheeks. Like he was actually absurdly pleased about getting the title, which told Dean that they hadn’t exactly been subtle about their bitch and jerk exchanges.

_Subtle as a hammer falling from three stories up and landing on the top of the world’s largest gong, big brother._

Dean snorted a laugh and kept moving them inside.

By the time they got to the sofa, it was all they could do to keep Sam upright. He landed in the cushions with a sigh and threw an arm over his face. “Gimme five,” Sam mumbled. “Find me books t’look at. Or…or somethin’.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Dean told him. “I’ll see what the others are doing. Stay put.”

He didn’t have to go far: the instant he stood up and moved around the sofa, Bobby appeared, a large book in his hands. “What’s that?” Dean asked.

“Heavy,” Bobby said dryly. “But it’s probably got a good chance of keeping people and their searches hidden from demons. Including the person bein’ looked for, if Sidria and I do it right. We’d appreciate Sam lookin’ at it.” He glanced past Dean and then grinned. “When he ain’t lookin’ at the back of his eyelids, at least.”

Dean glanced behind him. Sam’s arm was down and he was very clearly asleep, head tilted back at an angle. Gabriel was already there, tossing a nearby quilt over him, and it looked like the one that Sam always stole whenever they crashed at Bobby’s. He paused, frowning slightly, then rested a hand on Sam’s head. A moment later, he stepped back, clearly satisfied with whatever he’d done. “Everything good?” Dean couldn’t help but ask.

“Nothing major, just something that looked like it could veer into nightmares,” Gabriel said. “Consider it squashed. He needs sleep.”

“He looks like shit,” Bobby said, frowning. “What the hell were you all doin’ out there, anyway?”

Gabriel threw his hands in the air. “I wanted him to practice deflecting mental constructs and the idiot went too far. Shocker.”

Yeah, no surprise there. Still, he’d been winded pretty fast. “How hard were you tossing those, uh, mental constructs at him?”

“It wasn’t really the intensity so much as the speed,” Gabriel admitted. “I was doing a handful at a time. I figured he’d cut out, but that was my damn fault. He’s never cut out. Not even when…” And he pursed his lips and crossed his arms.

Dean could take a guess. _Gabriel, he survived Asmodeus, and he made sure you did, too,_ he prayed. _And as bad as the damage was, I’m glad he did. Because we need you around._

The two-month break hadn’t just been for Sam’s benefit. Dean had talked, too. Dean had spent hours, even full days, watching his brothers _not_ be in dire situations. It had been balm for his soul to see Sam sit and read a book for hours on end, or watch Gabriel and Castiel drop in and just enjoy the breeze off the water. The only thing missing had been Raphael, but he’d understood. Better than the others had.

Losing a brother was hard. Losing two of them after you’d just gotten them back was even harder. And Raphael had been dealt a lot of hurt and loss over the years.

It just added another thing to Dean’s to-do list: ensure that Raphael was actually okay. All of his little brothers were just too damn good at hiding how they felt. He felt like he could talk for days (or two months) and still not know how they were doing.

_Okay, okay, we get the point. But pot, kettle, Mikey._

Fair enough. “Go check on Raphael,” Dean told him, giving him a look. “I’ll keep an eye on this one. And come _tell me_ if something’s wrong.” Then, because it needed to be said, _Gabriel, that includes you, too. You’re not just a Messenger. You’re my little brother as much as they are._

Gabriel’s grin softened. There was a faint warmth, something that felt decidedly like Gabriel’s Grace, and then Gabriel was gone, off to find Raphael.

That left Dean with no brothers in the immediate vicinity. Well. Besides the one, currently sacked out and looking fairly colorless. At least he was resting.

“Pushed it too hard, huh,” Bobby said.

Dean snorted. “When doesn’t he. What’d you find?”

“Come take a peek and we’ll explain it as best we can. Sidria’s hopin’ you can confirm whether it’d work or not.”

That part, he probably didn’t need Grace for, just his own general knowledge. “Lead on,” Dean said, and followed Bobby to the other room.

Cold. Everything felt cold.

All he wanted was for someone to touch him. Just, just one touch, one scrap of warmth.

_Why did you leave me down here?_

His wings felt wrong, felt like ice, felt like lead. Every step was a stumble, every inch took days. It was getting worse.

_Father, please, I’m so sorry._

Ice settled into his spine and left every breath misting. He could barely feel his Grace and its lack left him frightened. He wanted to burn, he wanted to die.

He wanted Michael.

_Please, Michael, help me, please._

Where was his brother?

_Why can’t you hear me? Michael, Dean, please—_

Sam shot upright, heaving for air. It took barely a second to realize that he was in Bobby’s house, on the sofa, his favorite quilt wrapped around him. It didn’t take the chill away, though.

Even as just a memory, the Cage was a powerful one. Millennia had passed with him trapped inside, and he got that it couldn’t just be glossed over or forgotten, he did. He understood why even the memory was powerful enough to transfer over.

That didn’t mean he couldn’t hate it with every fiber of his being.

For one selfish, horrible moment, all he wanted was Dean’s Grace back. All he wanted was his big brother’s wings wrapped around him, helping to ward off the chill. Or Raphael’s wings, always soft, always gentle. Or even Gabriel’s, quick to extend and ease him with their kindness.

He wanted his own Grace back. He shut his eyes and shivered.

A careful, soft weight rested over him, easing the chill. Sam immediately looked over and found Sidria settling next to him on the sofa. “Does…does this help?” she asked tentatively. The weight on his back shifted. “My Grace isn’t that of an archangel’s, but I hope it helps in some way.”

More than she could begin to understand. Her wings and Grace felt like fire against the chill of the Cage, and Sam gave her a small smile. “It does. Thank you, Sidria.”

Her smile was almost as warm as her Grace. “It feels…weird,” she admitted. “To be the one protecting you. You and Michael have protected us younger angels, shielded us, taught us. And now here I am, hoping to protect you.” Her smile fell slightly. “You being human…it scares us. You’re so fragile. If something were to happen, we might not get there in time.”

As much as Sam knew that the loss of his Grace affected him, he hadn’t really considered how much it would frighten the younger angels. “If it helps, it wasn’t my choice,” he said wryly. A shiver suddenly wracked his frame, and there was a light brush on his back as Sidria’s wing moved. It left him truly touched.

Sidria raised an eyebrow, something she’d clearly picked up from them. “We didn’t think it was. But…we are wondering why it hasn’t come back, if you really want your Grace back.”

“Don’t ask me,” Sam said with a frustrated sigh. “Dean and I have tried everything. We want it back. Believe me, we do.”

“Do you maybe want something else…more?”

Sam frowned. “More? What do you mean?”

Sidria glanced around at the room, seemingly searching for something. He realized after a moment that she wasn’t looking for something, she was simply nervous. “Sid,” he said quietly.

“It’s just…if you wanted something more than your Grace, that might be getting in the way,” she said. “But just looking at you, it’s very clear that you _do_ want your Grace back. It’s just not happening.”

He forced himself to resist the knee-jerk response, of wanting his Grace, and focused on the question. He did want his Grace back. He’d had it back for such a little amount of time, and to not have it now felt like missing a limb. It was a part of who he was.

…But if it came down to it, at the end of the day, there was something that he would always want more than his own Grace. That, he’d give up his Grace for. His brothers, safe and happy: that was something he’d sacrifice everything for.

If Father was waiting for some acknowledgement of his Grace being more important than his brothers, well. Sam was going to be a long, long time without his Grace.

A headache started to bloom and he rubbed at his temples, wincing. Too much stress. “Where’s everyone else?”

“They’re looking over a spell to try and shield our searching for your grandfather. I’m not sure it can be done. I think it’s more of an invisibility spell, a way to shield us from angelic sight, but it might be worth trying.” Sidria made a face. “I believe there are bone etchings involved.”

Sam frowned. “That one? I don’t know that it was ever more than theory; Raphael never found a human willing to try it.” The headache loomed, harder and faster, and he bent over slightly, trying to shove it down.

“Sam? Are you all right?”

A flash of light was the only warning he got. It wasn’t a headache, dammit, it was so much worse, and he had a limited amount of time before he lost all control. “Get Dean,” he managed to get out. “S’a vision, get Dean—”

_A storage facility, rows upon rows of storage lockers. The light from above flickered in the dark and empty place as cars drove past on the nearby road._

_A man emerged from the darkness. Dressed in a blue multi-piece suit, he carefully crept forward towards one of the lockers. He reached into a pocket and pulled out a small black wallet. He opened it to reveal lockpick tools, and in a second he was crouched by the large scrolling door, undoing the lock._

_The door slid up and open. The dark locker beckoned to him as he settled the wallet of tools back in his pocket. He began to pat himself down. “What did you do with your flashlight, Henry?” he muttered to himself. After a moment, he finally reached around the corner, carefully searching for a light switch._

_The lights came on. The room was filled with shelving, wooden boxes and weapons scattered throughout. The man, Henry, scowled at the mess. “Hunters,” he said derisively. “Can’t organize anything. I’ll be here hours looking for that medallion.”_

_Two steps in, his leg caught a tripwire. There was no time to react before the crossbow bolt sank into his chest. Choking, Henry fell to his knees, hands going to his chest in almost disbelief._

_When he landed, his eyes were still open, blood pooling from his mouth._

“Sam? Sam!”

The vision lurched, repeating the death. The bolt, straight into the heart. Eyes wide in shock. Blood across the dusty floor. “Sammy,” Dean called again, desperately now. Hands touched his shoulders, pulling him further out.

No, he couldn’t, he _couldn’t_. Sam scrunched his eyes shut and fought to keep the grisly image. His head pounded and ached but he couldn’t let go now. “Sam,” Dean called again, “ _Luce_.”

“No location,” Sam whispered. “I, I don’t know where he’s going to die. I need to know. Dean, it’s Henry, I need to know.”

“Focus like Gabriel taught you,” Dean said, pivoting on a dime because Sam needed him to. Sam’s eyes burned. “You control it. Not the vision, you.”

It was so much different than what Gabriel had thrown at him. Those images had been easy to manipulate, to fold as he’d wanted them to. Even as easy as they’d been, they’d still taken effort. This? This was so different.

“Lucifer.”

He knew that voice, knew that tone. “You can do this,” Michael told him. “ _Focus_. This is no different than climbing up to the top of the clouds, flying from one end of the world to the other. You only had one goal in mind then. Do it again.”

One goal. One single goal, to beat Michael, to be faster than Gabriel. This wasn’t just about control: this was about besting the vision. He could do it. He had to.

And suddenly, he did.

In an instant he was there in the moment, Henry dead before him. Pushing hard, he wound the vision back to right before the bolt loosed. Sam carefully stepped through the shop, eyes seeking out the hidden weapon.

There, tucked beneath the bench at the far end. There was no way, with the mess everywhere, that Henry would’ve seen it. Though Sam was beginning to get the idea that maybe, just maybe, the mess was deliberate. That sounded more like a certain kind of hunter, the kind who liked being underestimated.

His eyes cast over everything. Tentatively he reached out and brushed his fingers against a wooden box. It didn’t feel like anything, further confirming that this was him in his own vision. There was nothing to touch, not really, but he wasn’t looking to test his theory that he could walk through walls like a ghost.

He moved past Henry instead and glanced around. Cars were frozen on the road beyond the security fence, and the lights of a fast food joint caught his eye. _Focus. Move._

Sam was through the fence and on the road in an instant. The nearby fast food join was also next to a bank, more fast food, and a grocery store. The bank’s sign was a scrawling marquee, talking about opening a checking account. They usually gave other things, too. Like the date and time.

He tilted his head and tried to imagine time slowly moving, inch by inch. Cars began to move around him but he ignored them, eyes too locked on the screen. The checking account moved to a screen reading out, _Have a nice day!_ and then, finally…

Date and time.

Sam grinned and closed his eyes.

When he reopened them, Dean was crouched in front of him, Bobby and Ellen right behind him. Sidria was still right beside him, and behind him, there was clinking in the kitchen that sounded suspiciously like a mug.

Dean’s frown was still there, getting more concerned by the minute. “Sammy? You with me?”

“Yeah,” Sam said, and his lips turned up. “I’m with you.”

“How are you feeling?” Bobby asked. “Looked like a doozy when we came in.”

“I’m okay. Dean, it’s Henry, and I know where he is. He’s at the North Country Self Storage next to a First Colebrook Bank. He’s going to be there today at 8:32pm, and he’s going to get killed by a trap in the storage locker.”

Bobby flew to the computer and started typing. Dean stared at Sam, eyes wide. “Wait, okay, wait. How’s your head?”

Actually, his head didn’t hurt at all. “I’m fine,” Sam told him, huffing a surprised laugh. “I’m okay. I was walking around, I manipulated time. I had it under control.”

The relief on Dean’s face was visibly obvious, demonstrating just how worried his brother had been. “And you saw your grandfather,” Ellen said, but she’d relaxed, too. Jo came from the kitchen, a mug of steaming liquid in hand, and carefully handed it to him.

It smelled like tea, Sam’s favorite kind, too. He gave her a soft and thankful smile. “Yeah, I did. It’s him. His name is Henry and that suit is definitely not a modern one. It’s got to be him.”

“And you said a storage locker?” Ellen asked, frowning. “What was he doin’ there?”

“Looking for a medallion of some sort. It looked like a hunter’s shed.”

Dean looked suitably impressed. “That’s a hell of a lot of information for thirty seconds.”

Sam paused. “Thirty seconds?”

“You were in pain, a lot of it, and then you weren’t,” Sidria said. “I know you may not feel it, but that much control in such a short period of time…that has to be your Grace, doesn’t it?”

“That’d be great if it were,” Dean said emphatically. “I’d feel a hell of a lot better if you could get your Grace back online.”

“Yours too,” Sam told him. It was worth nothing if he got his back but Dean was left human.

“North Country Self Storage is in Colebrook, New Hampshire.”

Sam glanced over at Bobby who was peering at the computer. “He’s on the east coast.”

Bobby began to say something, then stopped. “Wait. You said today.”

“Yeah, today at 8:32pm.”

Eyes turned to the clock before he started cursing. “What?” Sam asked warily. “Bobby?”

“They’re an hour ahead of us. It’s 7:25pm here.”

Sam froze. No. _No_. Dean looked equally horrified.

Seven minutes. They had seven minutes before Henry Winchester died.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'all have waited an awfully long time for Henry. Coming up next...


	7. Chapter 7

Immediately Sam turned to Sidria. “Get us to Henry as soon as you can.”

Sidria bit her lip. “I can carry one of you, but I don’t have the capacity to do both, I’m so sorry.”

“Do you have the strength for multiple trips?” Dean asked her.

Her nod was solid and sure. “That, I can do. But I don’t want to risk trying to carry you both and dropping one of you along the way.”

Yeah, no, that wasn’t Sam’s idea of a good time. For the millionth time he grieved the loss of his wings. He could be there in an instant, keep Henry safe, if he had his damn wings.

“Call Gabriel,” Ellen said immediately. “Get him down here, or Raphael.”

“I’ve _been_ praying,” Dean exclaimed, startling Sam. His brother paced back and forth, and underneath the anger was fear. “Ever since Sidria told me he was having a vision. I have no clue if he’s gotten it or if there’s a problem and he _can’t_ get it because I can’t think of much that would keep Gabriel from coming when I need him.”

Sam glanced at the clock. 7:27pm. “Sidria, we need to go, _now_.”

“Who am I taking first?” Sidria said, almost desperately.

He didn’t even have to look at Dean to know what Dean would say. Dean’s lips were pursed and there was clear frustration on his face, but he finally nodded. “Go. You know where the damn trap is. But I’m coming right behind you, you hear me?”

“I hear you, Michael,” Sam said softly. _I’ve got this. And I’m not alone._

If there was one thing he’d truly taken away from the last few months, it was that he was never going to be abandoned or left behind again. He had too many brothers, too many family members, there by his side.

It only made him all the more determined to keep them safe. He wasn’t going to lose them now.

Dean still didn’t look happy, but he did finally nod. “Call Gabriel on his phone,” Sam told him, standing. Sidria grabbed hold of his arm, making him shut his eyes. As an archangel, there was nothing better than flying.

As a human being, his stomach wasn’t quite up to par.

He still heard Jo’s incredulous, “He has a _phone_?” even as they took off. The swirling sensation was so familiar and yet so _wrong_ all at once that it made him cringe. He wasn’t really sold on the flying thing as a human. _Please, please come back online,_ he couldn’t help but pray. _I need my Grace, please._

They landed soon enough, and the air was cold. More than that, there was a winter breeze he hadn’t felt or seen in his vision, and he shuddered. “Should’ve brought my jacket,” he muttered.

“I’ll get it for you,” Sidria promised. She didn’t look fatigued, but she was clearly stretching her wings and gearing up for the return trip.

Sam glanced around. The storage shed he wanted was right up ahead, beneath the flickering light. “Right here,” he told her. “Come back right here. This is it.”

Sidria nodded, then frowned. “Where is he?”

That was a good question. He glanced at his watch which read _7:30pm_ on the nose. 8:30pm eastern time, which meant Henry should’ve been here already, trying to break in.

Had he gotten the date and time wrong? No, he hadn’t, he’d seen the sign, it was now. But Henry was nowhere to be seen.

A sudden slamming sound was all the warning Sam got. A huge flash of light engulfed the area, making him shy away. He heard a distant cry of pain from Sidria, then nothing.

The light faded. Slowly he lowered his arm, blinking away the spots from his eyes. When he finally got a good look around him, however, he froze.

Beneath the flickering light, on the side of the storage shed, stood Henry in his suit, hand against the wall. Blood trailed down the side in a too-familiar sigil. The angel banishing sigil.

Sidria was nowhere to be found.

Sam couldn’t help but gape. Henry lowered his hand, already wrapping it in a handkerchief. “So it’s true, then,” Henry said, voice hard. “It would seem that demons _can_ tell the truth when the truth is worse than a lie.”

“Demons?” Sam asked, still trying to catch up.

“Don’t act dumb,” Henry said. “The fact that your compatriot, sorry, the _angel_ , got flung away is evidence that you know about what really goes on in the world. And yes, demons. One of them was very loose in tongue when I got a hold of him. I’d hoped for word about Josie, or the demon who took her, but instead, he coughed up interesting information about who was likely to come looking for me. Namely, you.”

None of this was anything he’d seen in his vision. Somehow, his arrival with Sidria had changed more than just Henry’s death. “Me?” Sam said, feeling stupid and desperately trying to keep up.

“You. You came sooner than I’d expected. I know who you are,” Henry said. He pulled up his other hand, revealing a small gun, and aimed it point-blank at Sam’s chest. “You’re the Devil.”

Sam froze. “Since your friend disappeared with my sigil, then you’re clearly still human and not an angel,” Henry continued. “Though it’s not as if I can consider the Devil an angel still, no matter what lore says. So you may not be human, after all. Just immune to this particular sigil.” He glared at Sam and kept his finger on the trigger, and for an instant, all Sam could see was his dad’s face.

It wasn’t John, it _wasn’t_ , but it was clear where he’d gotten his facial features. Henry was absolutely part of their family, part of Sam’s family. Sam had never had grandparents, never dared dream of them, and here he was, alive and right in front of him—

Henry pulled the hammer back, making Sam instinctively step away. “I’m, I’m not,” Sam began haltingly. “I’m just Sam. I’m very human, and if you shoot me with that gun, you’re going to murder someone.”

“It’s been said that the Devil has a smooth tongue, and they weren’t lying,” Henry snapped. “I won’t be taken in by you. I know that you and that demon have nothing good up your sleeves. I won’t see all the hard work we’ve done get scrapped because of you.”

“I’m not trying to end the world,” Sam protested. “I’m trying to _save_ it.”

Henry glared at him as if Sam made him ill, and it shouldn’t have hurt so much, to be pushed aside by someone that nearly looked like John Winchester. It shouldn’t have. But it did. “You’re darkness,” Henry said, voice low. “You’re _evil_. And there’s not anything good about you.”

“I’m your grandson,” Sam blurted out. It hadn’t been what he’d wanted to say, not really, but facing down a gun that was leveled at his heart, and it had been the first thing to spill out.

It did the trick, at least. Henry froze, mouth dropping open. “You…you went into my future?” Henry whispered. “You took my grandson for your machinations?”

“We’re not in 1958,” Sam told him. “I know you know that. Everything you’ve seen, all the cars, the phones, the clothes—”

“I’ve stayed off the usual paths,” Henry said. “I’ve kept to myself, hitched rides, fought to get here. What I need is inside this building and then I can get Josie back, I can end the demon, and I can end _you_.”

“It’s 2009,” Sam continued, “almost 2010. It’s been…it’s been a hell of a year.” He paused, his mind spinning. “Most people have their own phones that they can carry in their pockets, they don’t need to be connected to a line, and they do so much, more than the computers of your day ever could dream of doing. I have mine in my pocket, here, let me show you.” He slowly reached for his jeans, and he could all but feel the phone resting against his leg. If he could get a hold of it, he could call Dean.

A shot went off, startling him into taking a step away. The concrete had a new smoking mark against it, right in front of where Sam had stood. “The next one’s in your heart,” Henry said. “I should’ve put one there already.”

“I’m not evil,” Sam insisted, and frustrated tears burned in his eyes. He was so _sick_ of the evil line, the insistence that he was damned because of his title, because of his existence. He wasn’t going to die here, in the middle of a storage shed lot, outgunned by the man he was trying to save. He wasn’t going to die here without his Grace or his big brother.

Henry just gave an ugly smirk. “You believe that all you like.” Then he fired.

It happened in a split second: the bullet rang out and then a clash of light went off in front of Sam like a firework. When he could see again, it was to a petite figure in front of him, blade held up to block off another attempt. In the light from above, Sam could’ve sworn he saw the shadow of wings, flared out to the side and very, _very_ angry. “Don’t you touch him,” Sidria seethed. “Don’t you _dare_.”

A loud crack filled the air, making Sam jump, but then Henry tumbled over to the ground, gun falling from his lax fingers. Behind him, wielding his sawed-off shotgun, butt of the gun clearly aimed down, was another very angry being.

Sam slumped in relief. “Swear to all that’s holy, Sam,” Dean snapped. “I can’t leave you alone for _five minutes_.”

Sidria hunched in on herself as well, but it wasn’t out of relief. Dean immediately ran forward and helped keep her upright as Sam kept her from falling. “You all right?” Sam asked her. “He sent you flying off with that sigil.”

“Again?” Dean exclaimed. “I am so _tired_ of that damn thing. Raph better have the answer.”

“I’m all right,” Sidria told them, though her cheeks looked a bit pale. “I think I should probably sit down, though. It took a lot to fly from where I landed back to Dean. Think I got lucky and landed somewhere in Minnesota.”

“Five minutes,” Dean said again as they moved Sidria over to a curb. He glared at Sam and gave him a hard shove in the shoulder. “Five freaking minutes. I think that’s a record.”

Sam glared back. “It wasn’t like I asked our grandfather to insist I was the Devil and clearly needed to die.” Oh, guess that had stung a lot more than Sam had wanted it to. He tried gamely to shove it down, knowing there was too much emotion showing on his face, but the hurt kept surfacing.

Dean’s glare faded. “He said that?”

Sam’s gaze swung down to Sidria, who was watching him with clear concern. “You got there in time,” he told her. The smile didn’t even feel forced. “And you were worried you wouldn’t.”

“I might not the next time,” Sidria said quietly, but she gave him a tired grin. “But I’ll never stop trying.”

A hand rested on his shoulder, fingers clutching tightly at him. “You’re not evil,” Dean said firmly. “That’s crap, all right? There’s no one brighter or better, and that goes for your Grace as much as your soul.”

He finally glanced up at his big brother and found a small, pained smile waiting for him. “I just want you to see what I see,” Dean admitted. “Because if you did, Sammy, you would never, _ever_ think you were evil again.”

“What I’ve done—”

“Mistakes don’t make a person. You told me that, remember?”

He did. A long night of talking about Dean’s time in Hell, of what he’d done, had led Sam to share the words he’d learned from Jess. Words that Dean had turned back on him more often than not, but if it meant that Dean wouldn’t doubt himself, then Sam could suffer it. “I know,” Sam said, though he didn’t feel like he did at the moment.

“And he doesn’t know you,” Dean said. “Not like we do. He’s got no clue who you are.”

Well, that wasn’t strictly true. “I told him I was his grandson, and that it was 2009.”

Dean’s eyebrows shot through to his hairline. “How’d that go over?” Sidria asked, looking equally surprised.

Sam just gave her a look. “You stopped a bullet. How do you think it went over?”

Headlights turned the corner. Sam swung around and realized that not only were the headlights heading straight for them, but that they were three people standing across from what had to look like a dead body outside of a broken-into storage room, with Dean still holding his shotgun.

“ _Shit_ ,” Dean muttered. “Sidria, any chance you can fly Sam out of here?”

“I’m not leaving you,” Sam said immediately. “Stuff it.”

“She can come back for me, I want you out of here—”

“You boys still squabbling?”

Sam froze. That voice. He knew that voice.

The headlights turned off, revealing a dinged-up truck and a familiar face peering out of the driver’s window.

Sam let out a shaky sigh of relief. “You trying to give us a heart attack, Rufus?” Dean yelled. “And what the _hell_ are you doing here?”

“Alarm on one of my storage cubbies went off. What are _you_ doing here?”

Ah. Now it made sense as to why Henry had been breaking in. “Stopping your intruder,” Sam told him.

Rufus glanced over at Henry’s unconscious body, then back at them. “I see that.”

A small huff of hair behind them caught Rufus’s attention. Sidria was even more hunched over herself, head nearly to the ground, and clearly exhausted. “She all right?” Rufus asked, the most concerned Sam had ever heard him sound.

“He got her pretty hard,” Dean said, and wasn’t that the truth? “Any chance we can get her to a real seat?”

“Sure,” Rufus said agreeably, moving to unlock the storage locker. “Uh, not the nice lookin’ chair. Put her on the old rickety one. The nicer one’s booby-trapped.”

Of course it was. Sam rolled his eyes and went to help Sidria to her feet.

Dean was pretty sure he’d never seen such a messy space. And he’d been in Bobby’s nearly his entirely life.

He got that the mess was superficial and deliberate. He even understood why, as he’d watched Rufus dismantle half a dozen traps before the man had declared the space fit to walk through. But…well…

For the first time in a long time, he sort of missed the cleanliness and order of Heaven. Just a little. Sidria didn’t seem that enthused with the space either, but she also seemed vaguely out of it. Dean remembered too well what Castiel had looked like with drained Grace and it left him more than a little concerned about the angel. She still had her wits about her, though, clearly ready to defend Sam and Dean at a moment’s notice.

If she hadn’t suddenly flown in and grabbed Dean, if she hadn’t fought to explain what had happened on the way to Sam, if she hadn’t gotten there in time…

Dean was just so very done with people trying to take his little brother away from him.

Speaking of little brothers. _Gabriel, if you get this, just call me or something. Let me know you’re okay. We’re good here, for the time being, but we have Henry and a lot of questions._ After a moment, he tossed out another prayer. _Raphael, it’s your big brother, and I’d appreciate if you or Gabriel could give me something that says you’re okay._

No flutter of wings. Nothing. He forced the unease down.

“Drink?” Rufus asked. “And you better appreciate me making that offer.”

Sam rolled his eyes. “I get it. And no, I’m good.”

Their easy-going conversation reminded Dean of something he’d been meaning to ask ever since Sam had clearly recognized the hunter. “Okay, let’s talk a minute. I know how I know Rufus, but you never met Rufus.”

“That’s not strictly true,” Rufus said. Dean watched as he glared at Sam and Sam…went _red_. “You owe me a bottle of rum, by the way.”

“I know,” Sam muttered.

“And two bottles of whiskey.”

“I _know_.”

Dean’s eyes widened. “You drank with him? When the hell was this?”

Sam gave him a pained look and oh. _Oh_. “You were, uh, indisposed, from what I gather,” Rufus said. “The permanent kind of indisposed.”

“I got better,” Dean said faintly. “I didn’t know that you knew Rufus.”

“You mean you didn’t know that he came to my place, talked my ear off all night, tore through my research, wept like a man who’d lost everything, and drank two full bottles of my best before leaving with a third?” Rufus gave Sam a look even while Sam’s face turned a darker shade of red. “I’ve no clue why he wouldn’t share that with you.”

“Can we move on?” Sam said testily, face sure to feel flaming. Dean took pity on him and neatly changed the topic, because honestly, it never failed to hit him just how much Sam had truly missed him, grieved for him. Dean had had a pretty crap summer, but Sam had had a bad one, too. The depth of love was sometimes right in Dean’s face. It made him remember a desperate face shining out from the Cage, willing to weather the Cage just so Michael wouldn’t have to Fall.

And now Sam had their grandfather telling him he was evil. Even after Sam had dumped the motherload of confessions on him.

Dean pursed his lips. Not on his watch. “What do we do with him?”

As one they turned to the figure currently tied up and seated against a nearby shelving unit. If Dean had tied him a little too tight, well, that was what he got for shooting at his brother. He’d gotten off lucky: the last time someone had shot at Sam, Michael’s wrath had made three corpses out of the responsible parties.

He might’ve been missing the Grace, but he wasn’t missing the ability to waste anything that came for his little brother.

Rufus made a face. “How’d you know he was here?”

Busted. “We, uh, we’ve been tracking him for a while. We had no clue this was your place.”

Sam just sighed. “I had a vision. He’s our grandfather. I don’t know why he’s here, but he’s looking for a medallion.”

Dean stared. That was far more information than he would’ve given, but Rufus didn’t seem surprised about the notion of visions, and he didn’t bat an eyelid at a grandfather that looked to be their age. “Nothing?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. “That’s old hat to you?”

He didn’t get an answer: all he got was a knowing gaze. It hit him like a pile of bricks. “You know.”

“Singer called me, explained the whole damn thing,” Rufus said. “About two months ago, he and the Harvelles were pulling together as many hunters as they could. When I poked at him, since the last I’d heard, the Devil himself had been released, he gave me a hell of a story. I started driving out, hoping to make it to what he was calling a ‘last stand’ and something suddenly ran into my car. I managed to only bust the front of my truck but I had some cop pass me before I could get back on the road. Wound up having to fill out paperwork and got stuck back in town. By the time I called Singer, he said we had an all clear.” Rufus moved his gaze to Sam. “When I asked what happened to you two, he hung up. I figured you two were dead. Or worse.”

“How much did he explain?” Sam asked carefully.

Rufus just gave him a look. “I’ve got a camera set out in front of my locker with audio. Not a damn thing I heard was a surprise, let’s put it that way.”

Sam went pale. Even before Dean could move in front of his brother, Rufus just rolled his eyes and grabbed a nearby bottle of scotch. “You’re not some evil devil or demon come to kill us all. At least, I suspect Singer would’ve told me as much if that were the case. Lucifer, maybe. Devil, I don’t think so. Am I wrong?”

“No,” Dean said, and wasn’t at all surprised to hear Sidria echo it. “He’s Lucifer, yeah. But he’s the farthest thing from evil you can get. You’ve clearly met the kid.”

“I have,” Rufus said. “Met you, too – you go by Dean or Michael now?”

“Both.” Dean shrugged. “I am both.” It had been hard to grasp, once. Now, it felt wrong that he wasn’t completely both.

Rufus just poured a glass of scotch and indicated that there were more cups. “I’ll stick with Dean and Sam, if that’s good with you. You’re both decent enough. I’ll admit, though, that I’m looking forward to seeing what you two do together, because apparently that’s where the magic happens.”

“Only Sam is psychic,” Sidria said, frowning. “There’s no magic when they come together.”

Dean couldn’t help the snort he let out. Even Sam gave a small grin. “You must be an angel,” Rufus said dryly. “I’ve heard you don’t have senses of humor.”

“Hers is coming along nicely, trust me,” Dean said. “There anything else you’re missing in terms of information? Anything you need to know?”

“You’re both angels now? Because I heard contrary on the audio.”

Sam inhaled sharply. Dean pursed his lips. “No. And not by choice,” he admitted. “We’re working on it.”

“He got something to do with it?” Rufus asked, jerking his head towards Henry.

“I doubt it.” Still, having Henry there didn’t bode well. Especially if he knew, somehow, that Sam was really Lucifer.

As if thinking the same thoughts, Sam turned to Rufus. “You said you heard…everything?”

“On my drive here, yeah. Why?”

“That demon that Henry mentioned, the one he got information from. He knew somehow that I was looking for him, or at the least, that Lucifer was looking for him.”

It wasn’t a secret with the demons that Sam Winchester was Lucifer, Heylel, the brightest archangel of them all. What might not have been so well known was that Lucifer was missing his Grace. Which meant they were probably looking for an archangel and expecting a hell of a bigger punch than what a human hunter could pack.

How much did Henry know about angels? How had he gotten a hold of a demon? Did Henry know Abaddon?

“So the guy’s got a few more questions to answer,” Rufus summed up succinctly. “Namely about the demon he interrogated. Guess we’ve got our own interrogation to do.”

“You okay with that?” Dean asked.

Rufus gave a wide grin. “I’ve got some ideas, if that’s what you’re asking.”

A groan came from the corner where Henry was tied up. Good: Dean wasn’t very patient, and Michael had never been particularly patient, either. Especially when it came to his little brother’s safety.

Ensuring Sam was behind him, Dean stalked over to the waking Henry.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm proud to announce that my I'm officially done with my grad school work and have my MA wrapped up. Which means far more time to work on my own writings, including this fic.

It didn’t take Henry long to realize he was bound, Dean had to give him credit. Most people tried to fight their way out and got panicked or angry.

Henry just tested the ropes once, winced at how tight they were, and glanced up at Dean. “Who are you?” he asked.

“I’m the guy whose brother you almost killed,” Dean said, glaring down at him. Henry went very still. “So yeah. I’m your other grandson. Hi.”

“I’m not your grandson,” Rufus said in the following silence, catching Henry’s attention. “But you were trying to break into my space and I sort of take issue with that. You’re lucky they got to you first.”

It didn’t take long for Henry to look past them both and see exactly who Dean didn’t want him to see: Sam. “Your brother is the Devil,” Henry accused. “And you let him walk the earth? You let the most evil and vile creature roam free? What kind of person does that make you?”

Dean didn’t have to look back to know what he’d see: Sam, hunched in and small, _again_ , and he was so, so very tired of his brother being cut down just when he was starting to find his own worth. Dean stormed forward, standing at his full height and towering over Henry, blocking the man’s view of anything else. Something hot flooded through him, his fury barely held back, and he stared down at Henry with all the wrath he could muster. “My brother is Lucifer, Heylel, the brightest of them all,” he said, voice dangerously low. “And I would know, because I’m Michael. Call my little brother evil again, and it’ll be the last thing you do.”

Henry stared at him, mouth dropping open. “Do we understand each other?” Dean asked.

“He was coming after me,” Henry said, eyes wide. “It happened just as I was told!”

“Who told you?” Rufus asked. He wrapped a random chain around his fingers almost idly, then yanked it taut in a single pull. Henry flinched at the sound ad Dean barely managed to hide a grin. Guess Rufus was truly willing to step up on the interrogation side of things.

“The demon,” Henry said. “I found a demon trailing me and turned the tables, as it were. It gave up plenty of information that I thought were just fanciful ravings at the time but everything it said was true: that the demon who took my friend Josie was in cahoots with Lucifer, and she was sending Lucifer and his other fallen angels after me.”

He shook his head, looking almost bewildered, but Dean swung around and stared at Sam. Sam looked just as stunned as Dean felt. “I didn’t remember much about angelic lore but I remembered the Enochian sigil for banishment and used it when…they appeared out of nowhere. And it worked on her, so I knew—”

“Shut up,” Dean said, and Henry fell silent. “Shit. _Fuck_. Sammy—”

“It was a setup,” Sam said, almost faintly. “Henry’s a trap for _me_.”

This was nine types of wrong and about to get even worse. “What did you do with the demon?” Dean asked, spinning back around to Henry. “When you were done interrogating it, what did you do?”

Henry stared like he had three heads. “I exorcised it, of course. What else do you do with a demon?”

“Dammit the _hell_ ,” Dean muttered. Sam already had his phone out and was dialing as fast as he could.

One ring, two rings, and then someone on the other end clearly picked up. “Crowley, listen—”

A pause. Sam pinched the bridge of his nose. “Yes, this is Lucifer. Give me Crowley.”

“The King of Hell’s got a secretary now?” Dean asked incredulously. Sam just shrugged and began to answer, then turned back to the phone.

“What do you mean you can’t find him? No, tell him to call me back immediately. A demon got sent downstairs and he’s working for Abaddon. We need that demon located, now.”

“No Crowley?” Dean asked when Sam hung.

Sam shook his head and he pocketed his phone. “The demon wouldn’t say where he’d gone. Just said he’d pass on the message. He sounded rushed.”

Well that sounded ominous. Before Dean could say anything, however, Henry spoke up. “You keep trying to tell me that he’s not evil, that he’s a good angel, but he’s in contact with the _King of Hell_? And clearly powerful enough to order him around?” He narrowed his gaze at Sam. “That sounds like the Devil to me.”

Sam went still. Long enough to clearly be working through what Henry had said, probably soaking it in and undoing all the months of work Dean had put in. Furious, Dean rounded on Henry, but before he could speak again, Sidria’s voice cut through the air like a knife.

“What you know about Lucifer is a lie fed to you by angels with power vaster than you’ll ever grasp. There are humans far more evil and wicked than ‘the Devil’. So before you judge him based on hearsay and lies, you ought to examine your own soul, the souls of those around you, and then perhaps truly watch the being before you and judge him on his merits.” Her eyes lit up with Grace. “Because those who know him know there is no one better or brighter. He is a friend, he is a mentor, he is an older brother whom I am honored to know.”

She glared at him from her chair, Grace finally subsiding. “In the words of another older brother, back the fuck off.”

Dean felt a massive surge of pride course through him and sort of hoped it was him that she was quoting. Or Gabriel. He’d be okay if it was Gabriel but damn did he hope it was him. Next to him, Rufus wasn’t even bothering to hide his smug grin and no small amount of awe. Sam looked awed, too, but for a whole different reason, and there was clear fondness in his gaze too.

Henry stared at her, gobsmacked. She gave Dean a terse nod, a job well done, and then slowly stood. Sam immediately went to her side to help steady her and she smiled up at him, back down to the tiny and somewhat shy Sidria that they knew so well. In there, however, much like Castiel, was the soul of a warrior.

Rufus cleared his throat and crossed his arms. “I don’t know the boys as well as others do, but I know there’s plenty of hunters who would drop everything to come help them. The Winchesters are loyal to the core and damn good at what they do. So I’d be awfully cautious about crossing them…or anyone who likes them. Like hunters whose places you break into.”

For the first time since he’d been found, Henry seemed like he’d realized just how screwed he might be. Not that Dean intended on actually killing the guy, but a little bit of fear went a long damn way. He already had demons apparently gunning for his little brother: he didn’t need a time-traveling grandfather on the list of things to deal with, either.

“What were you after?” Rufus continued.

“The Medallion of Janus,” Henry said after a moment. “My sigil spell to return to the past…it’s not working.”

“Wait, so _you_ time traveled?” Sam asked hesitantly. Henry pursed his lips but nodded. “It wasn’t an angel or a demon?”

“No. I did it myself to escape. The demon that took Josie, Abaddon you said? She slaughtered everyone else and was coming for me next. I don’t know if there’s anyone left in the Men of Letters in my time, now.” Henry shifted uncomfortably on the floor. “I knew I’d traveled through time, but honestly, I hadn’t expected to come so far forward. I need to get home to my son, so I need that medallion.”

His eyes kept darting to Sam, however, and Dean’s eyes narrowed. He wouldn’t. Then again, this was the stock that John came from, and given his dad’s last words to him, he wouldn’t put it past Henry. “Why, so you can go back to deal with your son in order to ensure this future never happens?” Dean asked. “Put him down and your grandson never becomes Lucifer?”

Henry stared at him, appalled. “I would _never_ hurt my son!” he shouted. “Never! How dare you? I love John. I wouldn’t touch a hair on his head, not even to prevent…” He shook himself. “How can you even suggest a thing like that?”

“Trust me, you were thinking it. Like father, like son,” Dean said, and he let the implication hang in the air. Rufus gave a knowing nod and Sam just sighed but didn’t say anything. It was Henry who looked pained, small and uncertain. It made Dean want to tell him what kind of man his son had become, how John had grown up without a father and never really learned what it meant to be there for his own sons.

It occurred to him then that maybe, if they got Henry back to the past, then perhaps John _would_ know what it was to father someone. Maybe it would change a lot of things.

Yet Michael knew the answer before his human soul could fathom it. _Henry can’t go home._ Whatever happened to Henry, he wasn’t making it home to John and his wife. It sucked that time had to stay where it was, but undoing it would cause even more problems. Maybe Gabriel would never stop being Loki. Maybe Raphael would never have the reeducation undone.

Maybe Sam would die in the fire as an infant.

Sam’s quiet voice cut through the silence. “Rufus, do you have the medallion?” Frowning, Dean turned to Sam, but Sam’s face spoke volumes. He wasn’t asking to try and send Henry home: he was asking purely on principle. He knew, too.

Rufus shrugged. “I got a lot of them from a sale. I haven’t sorted through them. But if I knew what it looked like, that might help.”

“Two faces turned away from each other, with a door framing them,” Henry said eagerly. “It would be easy to find, it’s very unique.”

“It’s unique all right,” Rufus agreed. “I remember it. But it’s not here. I took it home with a load of things that looked important about three days ago.”

Henry frowned. “Had it, um, been here for some time? Because my scrying should’ve found its exact location otherwise.”

He actually looked put out about it, which only made Dean grin all the more at Rufus’s smug answer. “Sat here for four months. And your scrying can’t get through six inches of warding.”

Henry shook his head. “But you’re just a hunter.”

“You saying we’re dumb?” Rufus asked dangerously.

Dean watched as Henry fought to find the words he wanted. “I’m saying that hunters are more like soldiers. We’re the researchers, the heads of the field. Hunters don’t have as much knowledge about the workings of the supernatural as we do.”

“You don’t know a lot of hunters, then,” Dean said. “We’re out in the field and doing the dirty work. We know firsthand what is and what isn’t there. And my brother? He’s the smartest person I know.”

“Beats Singer hands down, and that’s not easy to say,” Rufus agreed.

Sam ducked his head a little, but there was finally a smile, and Dean felt his shoulders go down. After a moment, however, Sam’s smile faded. “We’re not safe here. We need to keep moving. Rufus, can we get to your place?”

“Doors are open to you,” Rufus said with a nod. “Even if you don’t come bearing alcohol to replace what you drank last time.”

“I’ll get you more,” Sam said, rolling his eyes.

“Then the only problem I have is that my truck won’t fit four men and an angel.”

“I can fly,” Sidria assured him. “Don’t worry about me. I can also carry someone if need be.”

“I don’t need you taxed,” Dean warned. She had color back in her face, but he remembered how long it had taken Castiel to regain his strength after he’d been zapped. Even Gabriel had been wan and tired for quite a while.

Sidria just smiled. “I’ll be all right, Michael. But thank you.”

Dean pursed his lips but nodded. Henry had gone silent again, but his eyes actually held a touch of awe as he looked at Sidria now. It was a vast improvement, but it didn’t mean that Dean was going to let him roam free anytime soon.

There was a look on Sam’s face that Dean knew too well. “What’s wrong?” he asked.

Sam’s uneasiness didn’t fade. “I’ve been praying to Gabriel and Raphael, to let them know what’s going on with Henry and Crowley. I’m not getting a response. No phone calls, nothing.”

A sick feeling grew in Dean’s gut. “I prayed and tried to call Gabriel earlier and got nowhere.”

Silence fell as Sam clearly took that in, his eyes widening in fear. There was no way that Raphael or Gabriel would ignore them both. Absolutely no way. Which meant—

“Sidria,” Dean began, but Sidria was already racing outside the storage locker, rolling her shoulders to shake out her wings. “Are you up for the flight?”

“More than,” she said, but she still looked hesitant. “I don’t want to leave you two alone, though.” Despite her clear reservations, she was in a flight-ready stance. Prepared to take off because Dean had asked her to. _Michael’s will be done._

Dean gritted his teeth. “Right now, we’re safe as we can be. Gabriel and Raphael might not be. See if you can figure out why they’re not answering.”

“Land armed,” Sam advised, and Sidria took off in a woosh of wings.

“Woah.”

Dean turned to where Rufus stood inside the storage locker, eyes wide. “Now that’s not something you see every day,” he said, sounding a touch awed himself.

It reminded Dean that they were out in the open, not under any sort of real warding, no angels to protect them. “Time to move,” Sam said, and Dean gave a tight nod.

“May I be untied?” Henry asked.

“ _No_ ,” Dean said emphatically. Sam began to speak, then hesitated, which made Dean’s no all the more a _fuck_ no. The son of a bitch had gotten into Sam’s head enough, making him pause, making him doubt himself. It only pissed Dean off all the more. “Until I’m certain that you aren’t going to kill a very human and very _not_ evil little brother of mine, you stay zipped up tight.”

Rufus undid the first layer of ropes to detach Henry from the shelving unit and hauled him up to his feet. Henry stumbled with his hands still tied behind him but found his feet quickly enough. “Gonna be a tight squeeze, but we’ll manage,” Rufus said. “I’d suggest one of us ride in the bed, but it’s too damn cold out for that.”

He shoved Henry forward to Dean’s waiting grip. Dean probably shouldn’t have appreciated the flinch that Henry gave at the tight and punishing grasp, but at that point, it was all he could do to keep himself from worrying about all of his little brothers. If that meant Henry got a little bruised, well, he should’ve maybe not aimed a gun at Sammy.

Henry got pushed into the back behind the passenger side, a tight fit that Dean made even tighter by sliding the seat back. “Sam’s got long legs,” he said with a tight grin at Henry’s face.

“Sam’s driving,” Rufus said. He tossed Dean his shotgun, storage locker already closed up. “I’ll sit in the back behind him, you take the passenger seat.”

Even better. “Thanks,” Dean said gratefully. He began to say something else, but Rufus put a hand on his elbow, just enough to catch his attention. Frowning, Dean tried to read the look on his face. “What’s wrong?”

Rufus paused for a long moment before finally speaking, pitching his voice low. “You know, you keep saying that you and Sam are human, but when you unloaded on Henry back there, before the angel did? Your eyes flashed green. Brightest green I’ve ever seen.”

Dean froze. “Maybe not so human after all,” Rufus said, then let go to move around to the other side of the truck. Sam was already there, waiting for Rufus to get in, then slid the seat back and got behind the wheel.

Slowly Dean got into the truck. “Take a right out of here,” Rufus said and Sam took off. Dean should’ve paid more attention to the directions as they moved away from the lights of the city to the dark backroads, but his mind couldn’t help but focus on what Rufus had said.

_Your eyes flashed green._

That was his Grace. So his Grace _was_ coming back online, slowly, at the most random of times. Not at all in time to get up to Heaven and figure out what was going on. Or in time to protect Sam if he needed to.

Screw it. He’d managed for years and years doing just that by being human. The shotgun by his side and the piece at his back would do just that. He’d manage just fine. It was Gabriel and Raphael, up in Heaven, that he couldn’t protect as easily if they weren’t down here.

_Please tell me you guys are okay,_ he prayed again. _Anything._

His phone didn’t ring. Nothing happened.

What the _hell_ was going on up there?

“So, Michael…he’s well?”

“Very,” Raphael assured her. Lydia was a young angel but her concern was clearly genuine. Beside him, Gabriel seemed solemn and silent, and the memory of his pain and loss from the conversation with God was available to anyone who wanted to see it.

It had drawn quite a few angels over, including Hannah and Nathaniel. Both had been concerned not just with Raphael and Gabriel, but with the two missing archangels. As was most everyone that they had passed, but Gabriel had indicated to the two that they needed to speak with them privately later.

Lydia’s frown didn’t dissipate. “And Lucifer?”

Gabriel flinched minutely, in a way that Lydia would never see, but one that Raphael recognized instantly. “He’s well, too,” Raphael told her.

Lydia completely relaxed, and her Grace brightened. “I’m glad to hear that. They’re together at least, right?”

“Yes,” Raphael said, softer now. Gabriel’s Grace had warmed as well. “They are.”

She gave a cheery nod. “They’re better that way. Please pass along my well wishes. I hope to see them up here again soon. Heaven isn’t the same without their light.”

Yes, Lydia had passed the test, too. “Thank you.”

She moved on and Raphael’s gratefulness for another angel’s dedication quickly disappeared, burning away into more anger. Someone had to be lying. Someone _had_ to be. Or had they only come across angels who were truly, sincerely, supportive of Lucifer and Michael?

“Are you okay?”

Raphael let out a frustrated huff of air. “No, I’m really not. It’s just…pissing me off, as you would say.”

“Everything’s pissing you off,” Gabriel noted. “All the time and everywhere.”

He wasn’t wrong. “I just…”

Gabriel stopped, forcing Raphael to come to a halt as well. “Talk to me,” Gabriel said, clearly concerned. “You’re worrying the hell out of all of us.”

“I don’t know what to do,” Raphael admitted quietly. It was about the worst that he’d ever felt, the most lost he’d ever been, and he had no way to fix it. “I have this, this anger inside of me. And it won’t go away. I don’t know what to do with it.”

“Since Dad’s visit?”

He wished he could blame it on just that. But that wouldn’t be fair or truthful. “Since I saw what had happened to Lucifer in the Cage,” he confessed. “It just got buried under the reeducations. But yes, God’s visit simply set everything into, uh, overdrive is probably how Michael would say.”

Sometimes it would fall away and he could breathe. And then there were times where it felt like the anger was strangling him, keeping him prisoner, setting him ablaze. He hated it, yet he couldn’t make it go away.

“I get it.”

He blinked and glanced up at Gabriel. “I mean, you think I left Heaven because I was happy?” Gabriel said, shaking his head with an ugly laugh. “I was so angry I could barely see straight. So sick of the fighting I wanted to hurl.”

“What did you do?” Raphael asked.

Gabriel seemed uncertain of what to say next, and Raphael realized he wasn’t familiar with being the source of wisdom, nor of mentoring to his older brothers. He’d done it numerous times, but not often enough to be comfortable with it.

Still, he squared his shoulders, only making Raphael all the prouder of him. “I joined the Norse and played pal to Loki. I took out that anger on a lot of people who were stupid and deserved it.” He winced then. “And others who didn’t.”

Even without seeing the memory floating through his Grace, Raphael knew exactly who he was thinking of. “Sam does not begrudge you what happened,” he said. “As we’re fond of telling him, let it go, little one.”

“Always easier said than done,” Gabriel said with a wry grin. After a moment, he added, “I’d talk with Dean, if I were you. He’s worked through a lot of his anger, most of it aimed at a dad who crapped out and told him to fall in line.”

“I just didn’t want to add to his stress,” Raphael admitted. He’d wanted to let Dean heal, to let Michael recover. As an older brother, Raphael had understood the driving need to protect his little brothers, to focus solely on them, to need them well. He couldn’t imagine all of that and the loss of Grace weighing on him, too.

“You forget that you’re one of those little brothers in this instance, Raph.” Gabriel just raised an eyebrow. “And I’ll tell you what he’ll say: that you’re being stupid.”

Raphael could all but hear his brother saying it now, and it made him grin. Fair was fair. “I’ll speak to him, when I have a chance,” he finally said.

A gust of air was all the warning he had before Sidria suddenly appeared in front of them, blade at hand. Raphael had lunged in front of Gabriel before he’d recognized the being, and he found himself bewildered. “Sidria?”

Sidria slumped in obvious relief, only adding to the confusion. “Sidria, what happened?” Gabriel demanded.

Sam and Dean. It had to be them. Gabriel apparently came to the same conclusion and started cursing in a very un-Heavenlike way. “Of course they’re in trouble,” Gabriel snarled. “Of fucking _course_ they’re in trouble and they didn’t even fucking pray to me. What the hell is the point of having brothers who have Grace if you won’t—”

“They did pray,” Sidria said faintly. “Both of them. You, you wouldn’t answer. That’s why I’m here: because they feared something was wrong with _you_.”

Raphael froze. Something dark and horrible slithered through his Grace, leaving him wishing he could be ill. _Castiel, I pray, hear me and respond,_ Raphael tried.

No response. His prayer sounded as if it were an echo, unable to go beyond his own Grace. _Castiel, I pray to thee, let thou Grace hear mine own,_ he tried more officially. Nothing.

Panic began building, tearing through him. _Castiel, tell me you’re all right,_ he tried in the most unofficial of ways, but it, too, resounded in an empty way around him.

“I can’t get a hold of Cassie,” Gabriel said frantically. “Or Ezekiel.”

Raphael found himself absolutely lost for words. Prayers couldn’t make it through? But to what end? What purpose would it do, besides frighten angels and incite panic? Well, those were good reasons enough, he guessed, but for what actual reason would—

Panic. Frighten. But more than that, cut off. If they were injured, no one could know. No one would be able to call for help.

“Raph,” Gabriel began, but Raphael was already flying through Heaven as fast as he could. There was only one place where the prayers came through, the very heart of communication between Heaven, Earth, and God himself. One that shouldn’t have ever been in danger, the safest place in all of creation.

The Garden.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'all missed my cliffhangers. Let's be honest.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not the world's longest chapter, but it really stood on its own.
> 
> I want you to know that though the holidays look very different this year for everyone, I'm sending you a hug and a good wish and my [latest blog post](https://jmrhineheart.wordpress.com/2020/12/23/holiday-hope-and-tasty-treats/) with my favorite recipes. Always looking for new ones!

Heaven passed by in a blur of white spaces and startled faces as Raphael raced to the Garden. It occurred to him, now that he thought about it, that the space in his mind where he usually heard prayers was silent. Completely silent. It made his Grace twist, desperate to hear the voices of the other angels, of humans seeking them out.

Is this how Michael and Lucifer felt, with no Grace to bolster them?

Finally the doors of the Garden approached. He wasn’t surprised when Gabriel landed before he did and threw open the doors of the Garden. Raphael didn’t hesitate, just darted inside.

He wondered what it looked to other angels, from time to time, as everyone saw the Garden as different things. To him, it had always been white with a great deal of order, white shelves full of books, herbs and healing flowers growing in neat rows and shelves.

But everyone saw the large tree in the middle that stretched beyond sight. The trunk usually surged with the power of prayers and communications throughout Heaven. The very core of Heaven’s most important function stood tall and proud in the very middle of the Garden.

Except now. Now…

Raphael stared in horror, Gabriel nearly running into him. There in front of the trunk was Joshua, body spread out on the ground, eyes wide and staring at nothing. There was no imprint of his wings, but his chest wound flickered with the tiny remnants of his Grace. All around him was a glow that was slowly seeping out of him and creating a perfect circular shape near his head.

He followed Joshua’s outstretched arm, flung towards the trunk in the middle of the room, and felt his very Grace shudder. The core of Heaven was slashed and gouged so deeply that parts of it were flung around the Garden, and the trunk was flickering, as if desperately trying to come back.

There was no way they could hear any prayers with that. There was no viable connection between Graces or souls.

Behind him, Sidria gasped in shock, and Raphael could see her Grace in visible pain. She fell to her knees, tears streaming down her face.

“ ** _Who_** ,” Gabriel managed to choke out, grief and rage all but consuming him. “ **Who would _dare_**.”

“Why?” Sidria whispered. “Why would they do that to him? Why would they cut us all off?”

Gabriel stopped, eyes widening, and before Raphael could stop him, took off again. “Sidria,” Raphael called out to warn her as he also took flight, racing after his youngest brother. It was hard to follow Gabriel, it always was, but he clung to the sight of his brother’s Grace as they flew back through Heaven. He couldn’t lose sight of Gabriel, he couldn’t, because he wouldn’t be able to hear Gabriel, they’d be lost, they were all going to be so lost.

He heard the fight before he saw it. He realized that they were at the rooms of the archangel, near Raphael’s wing, the place where—

Where they’d left Naomi under Anael’s care. _No_.

As soon as he rounded the corner, it all came into view. Anael was locked in battle with an angel that Raphael immediately identified as Ariniel. Blades flashed as they fought, and he could see a glow of Grace flowing from Anael’s side. Ariniel pressed her advantage, eyes gleaming in pride, but Anael refused to cede ground from where she stood. “I won’t let you,” Anael shouted.

Gabriel was still ahead of him and not slowing down. He swung into Ariniel’s side, sending her flying across the room. Ariniel landed somewhere in the corner with a cry even as Gabriel took a defensive stance in front of Anael. All six wings unfurled, angry and ready to attack, and his blade hung ready in his hand.

Suitably defended, Raphael went instead to Anael, who’d slumped back against the wall. “Let me see,” he said. “Anael, let me see.”

“Tried to get in,” Anael bit out, gasping in pain as Raphael examined the wound. It wasn’t bad, not truly, but how it had happened was beyond despicable. For an angel to attack another, here in Heaven…it left Raphael lost for a moment, unable to comprehend what he was supposed to do. Only when Anael hissed in pain did he manage to pull back to himself and settle Anael to a sitting position.

Even as he set about mending her Grace, his mind spun. Was this God’s will, that all angels should turn on each other? Did God truly want another war in Heaven to determine who should stay and who should go before the angels closed off from humanity again?

“ **Do you have her?** ”

“I do,” Raphael said lowly. “Go.”

Gabriel gave a tight nod and stormed forward towards where Ariniel had landed. Raphael couldn’t help but watch, feeling his own blade ready to appear at a moment’s notice. If she tried to attack Gabriel, if she tried to hurt his brother—

Only when Gabriel turned back, confused, did he breathe. “She’s gone,” Gabriel said, and the rage of Grace faded from his eyes and voice. “She managed to take off somehow.”

“She didn’t get past you,” Raphael said to Anael, not even truly a question. Still, Anael shook her head firmly.

“No. She—ouch!—tried. I wouldn’t let her.”

“Naomi,” Gabriel said grimly. Raphael gave a tight nod. That’s what he’d surmised as well. He’d sort of been hoping he was wrong.

Two angels suddenly appeared, startling Gabriel into raising his blade again, but Raphael felt himself relax as soon as he realized who it was. “Are you all right?” Nathaniel asked, frowning. “We heard a fight and came as soon as we heard.”

“Where are the intruders?” Hannah asked, eyes narrowing in on Anael. “Who dared enter Heaven?”

“We tried to pray to you, Gabriel, to let you know,” Nathaniel said. His frown only deepened. “I’m glad to see that you’re already here but…I was a little surprised that you didn’t answer.”

Anael glanced up at Raphael, and there was a different sort of hurt in her eyes. “I called for you, too. I have to assume you had a reason for not answering, of course—”

“The prayer line in Heaven has been damaged,” Raphael told them. “No one’s prayers are going anywhere.”

Hannah’s eyes went wide. Nathaniel began to speak, then stopped, too stunned for words. Anael slumped where she sat, and for the first time since Raphael could remember, she looked frightened. “Ariniel did that?” she whispered.

“Wait, _Ariniel_ attacked you?” Hannah asked with a gasp. “ _She_ did this?”

Another angel flew in, Sidria sliding to a stop beside Hannah and Nathaniel. Her eyes were still red and wet, but she also looked formidably angry. “Sid, I know your wings are tired,” Gabriel began, but Sidria shook her head.

“Not for this. I’ll go back down and tell them, keep them safe.” Her eyes caught sight of Anael and she went pale. “Are you—?”

“I’ll be fine,” Anael promised with a weak smile. “Just sore. But Raphael’s putting me back together.”

“I’d have preferred if I’d gotten here before you’d needed putting back together,” Raphael told her, and found his voice was barely working, tight with so many emotions he couldn’t even place them. Anger and sorrow, grief and hurt and fierce determination all wound in and out of his being until he felt like he would explode into a million pieces and never pull himself back together—

A wing brushed against him. Raphael shut his eyes for a moment and let Gabriel’s steady strength keep him buoyed against the maelstrom in his being. His brother’s Grace, calm and there for him, no matter what happened.

When he opened his eyes, Gabriel stood beside him, strong and sure. “Think we can fix it?” he asked.

In response, Raphael stood. “Hannah, Nathaniel, stay here with Anael, check on Naomi,” he said. “Sidria—”

“On my way,” she said, and she flew for Sam and Dean.

One thing settled at least. “We’ll be back.”

“We’ll be here,” Nathaniel promised, and together Raphael and Gabriel took off.

This time the flight to the Garden was less rushed, though no less urgent. When they reached the doors, Raphael couldn’t help but stop. Gabriel, too, came to a halt, and for a moment, they stood outside the doors. Waiting.

Finally Raphael sighed. “He’ll be no less…dead in a few minutes.” Straightening his shoulders and wings, he pushed the doors open.

The floor was empty. Joshua was gone.

Stunned, Raphael ran inside, eyes casting about everywhere. But no, Joshua had truly vanished, leaving only the circular shape on the floor. There was a trail leading from the circle to the tree trunk, and the trunk itself looked less damaged. The light no longer flickered, though it remained low.

Even in death, Joshua’s powers were clearly more than enough to help heal the damage. No one else could’ve done so much except God himself.

“If anyone could’ve ruled Heaven,” Gabriel muttered, to which Raphael nodded. Joshua could’ve done far more than Metatron had, but instead had chosen the Garden and to speak with God.

He wasn’t sure what to do with that. He shoved the thought away and focused on the trunk. It was still slashed to bits, and the light was barely there. Powerful as he was, even Joshua’s remaining Grace hadn’t been able to heal the damage done completely. To be honest, Raphael himself wasn’t entirely certain that _he_ could do it.

Gabriel nudged him in the shoulder. “You’re Heaven’s healer,” he said, clearly reading Raphael’s Grace and face. “You can do this.”

“I don’t know that I honestly can,” he said softly. “My Grace needs to be focused to heal, to help, and right now I’ve never been more out of control.”

“I’m here.”

He glanced at Gabriel and found his little brother smiling at him. “I’ll help,” he said. “I’m not going anywhere.”

He wondered, briefly, if this was how Dean felt with Sam, if that same fervent loyalty and love ensured that his older brother would do anything to protect Sam. Because at that moment, Raphael would’ve done anything at all to not only keep Gabriel safe, but to also keep him smiling. Long had he loved his brothers, all of them, but this was more. This unity was something far greater.

“Together, then,” he said, and he turned to the trunk. It was a wound, that was how he had to look at it. It was just another wound. And he could heal a wound.

Taking a deep breath and trying to settling his Grace, Raphael reached out and sank himself into the trunk.

So many voices. Heavens above, he’d never heard so many voices. Angels everywhere were crying out, but not for their own needs. No, all of them were seeking validation that the others weren’t hurt, that their brethren were safe. Prayers went everywhere so quickly that they were like flashing lights, all different colors and impossible to try and keep track of. Their desperation left him breathless.

Then there were souls, bright souls, all looking for answers. Millions upon billions of people sending up prayers, some direct and formal, some just wishing and hoping for something good to come their way. _Please Lord, heal my mother,_ and _C’mon universe, I could use some guidance right now,_ and _I hope this lotto ticket is the winning ticket,_ and even _, I need to know if she’s the one for me_.

There were so many prayers that he could barely hear one over the other. All of them bundled up through the trunk, all of them seeking some form of help or need or want, some guidance and an ear to hear and something more than them to lean on. It was bewildering. It was beautiful. It was more than he’d ever heard before and it was as if he could feel the entirety of humanity all at once. All of their hopes and dreams, all of their fears and disappointments. It only made their souls shine all the brighter.

But none so bright as two souls, tinged green and red, reaching up amongst them all, their prayers so achingly familiar that it felt like their Graces. _Gabriel, it’s Sam: please call us if you can hear us. Give us something so we know you’re okay. Raphael, please, call me so I know my other big brother is safe._

_Gabriel, Raphael, answer your big brother already and tell me you’re all right. Please._

When he pulled away from the trunk, his next breath somehow came easier. The anger inside of him, the storm of emotions, it was gone. Extinguished under the onslaught of the prayers from both angels and humans, he supposed the fire inside of him hadn’t really had a chance of staying. Not with that.

Because God or not, there was a real need, a need for someone to help humanity as well as the angels. Someone needed to be there for them, to help guide them forward towards peace, prosperity, and healing. And that, Raphael felt very called to respond to.

“Raph?”

Raphael turned to find Gabriel there, looking concerned. When his little brother reached up to wipe tears off of Raphael’s face, he wasn’t particularly surprised. “I’m all right,” Raphael promised, voice thick. He gave a small laugh and felt as if his wings would help him float. “I’m…better than all right.”

After a moment, Gabriel nodded and looked relieved. “I can hear it again. I can hear everyone again, and wow, they are _loud_.”

Heaven would sort itself out as soon as the angels could hear each other once more. There’d be questions to answer for sure. But for now, Raphael had four angels to attend to: two sure to need answers, one in need of healing, and one in need of hiding.

“Come on, Gabriel,” he said. “We have work to do.”


	10. Chapter 10

The sounds of metal clinking together were swiftly followed by a loud curse. More jingling, then a loud bang, and oh, wow, that was an impressive curse, Dean had to give Rufus that. It even made Henry turn red from where he was tied to the chair.

Against Dean’s better judgement, they’d tied him to the chair by chest and legs but left his arms free. It left him free to draw an image of the medallion as well as drink a cup of tea. Dean was trying to sort of enjoy the fact that this was his grandfather, a man he’d never met or known, he really was. It was just hard whenever Sam’s life had been on the line. _Again_.

If he didn’t know better, he’d say that the universe at large was determined to separate him from his kid.

Sam himself was in the room adjacent to the kitchen and dining room-turned-reference room, as far from Rufus and Henry as he could get. He seemed like he was just perusing the multiple shelves, looking at the texts, but Dean could tell his focus was anywhere but. Every now and then, he’d stop, eyes going distant, and then he’d move around again.

Dean couldn’t exactly call the kid out for it. He was doing the exact same thing.

_Raphael, Gabriel, please call and just let us know you’re okay,_ he prayed again. His phone stayed stubbornly silent. _Castiel, Ezekiel, Anael, call me now._

He didn’t even think Ezekiel or Anael had a cell phone, something he was going to remedy as soon as they all came back together. Castiel had one, but whether he knew how to use it or not was up for debate. Not well, if Dean’s numerous unanswered calls were anything to be believed.

And none of that addressed the reason _why_ he couldn’t reach anyone. Something was seriously wrong and he was beyond nervous. If he had his Grace—

“Stop it,” he muttered to himself. It wasn’t going to help anything. What he needed was patience. His Grace was coming back online. Slowly. He just needed to wait.

He realized suddenly that Sam was no longer in front of him but disappearing into another room, and swiftly. Dean immediately set off after him, leaving Henry to Rufus. He couldn’t help Raphael or Gabriel, but dammit, he could still help Sam.

The hallway held a few doors, but only one door gently fell shut behind a retreating figure. Dean kept going through and found himself in another small library that looked like it functioned as a guest room. There was a small window out the side, the light of a nearby outdoor floodlight offering a way to see out into the dark. Not that Dean thought Sam was actually looking at anything outside, but Dean would let him keep up the illusion of not worrying about everything.

Still, he’d lose his big brother license if he didn’t say something. “You okay?” he asked quietly.

Sam let out a shaky sigh. “No. I’m not.”

Dean blinked. Okay, he hadn’t exactly expected an honest answer. Spoke volumes about how bad Sam had to be feeling. “Anything I can do?” Dean asked.

He got a snort for that. “You’re the only thing that’s keeping me together. You’re already doing enough by just being here.”

“Remember that whole thing about us being honest with each other?” Dean said, shutting the door behind him. “What you just said, it’s a great sentiment and I appreciate it. But that doesn’t explain what’s eating at you.”

Sam shut his eyes. If there was anything he’d learned patience with, it was patience in waiting Sam out. Especially over the months together, sitting in the California apartment. Even more than waiting Sam out, though, Sam had offered the same time and patience for him when he’d needed to talk. It had mattered more than he’d thought.

It still didn’t mean he didn’t want to shake Sam and get the answers out immediately, though.

“I think my Grace isn’t coming back because I want something else more.”

Dean frowned. “Like what?”

Sam just shrugged. “I’ve been waiting and waiting but now, now I’m worried if it _does_ come back online. I think the Grace helped with controlling the vision, as little as I have.” He glanced at Dean at last. “Have you felt anything with yours?”

He wasn’t fond of Sam ignoring his questions, but he settled for answering Sam’s. “Not really, no. But Rufus said that while I was yelling at Henry, back at the storage locker? My eyes apparently flashed green.”

Sam’s own eyes widened. “Yours is coming back, then,” and there was so much hope on his face that Dean hated to kill it.

“Maybe,” Dean cautioned. “I still don’t know how or why.”

“Maybe because your emotions were strong?” Sam said. At least he wasn’t looking despondent; now he was thinking, pulling it apart in his mind, trying to figure out the puzzle. “You were pretty pissed. And I had strong emotions while I was working on the vision.”

It was a valid point. And it also explained why it maybe hadn’t happened while they were taking a break: they’d focused on meditating and relaxing, not exactly invoking big emotions. “Fair enough,” he said. “So why don’t you want your Grace to come back?”

He got another shrug, but this time, Dean was done being patient. “Sammy, come on, talk to me,” he said softly. “Luce.”

That got more of a response. “I do. I, I really do.”

Of all the things he missed about his Grace, it was being able to read Sam’s Grace, see how his brother was really feeling. “But?”

“I’m just worried that it won’t be…”

“Won’t be what? Yours? Amazing?”

“But what if it’s not?”

There were days that Dean loved the ability his brother had, to jump three steps ahead of him, to see the solution. And then there were days where it was super difficult because, well, Dean didn’t take the three steps with him. “What if what’s not?” he asked.

Sam stared out at the darkness around them, eyes cast to the distance like he was paying it any attention. “What if it’s not…light?” he finally asked, voice so soft it was almost difficult to hear.

And oh. _Oh_. Of course Sam would wonder. How could he not, with the blackness that had taken over every part of his Grace? Dean still remembered pushing through it, feeling it like oil on his skin, swallowing him whole and choking him. And that had been him just trying to find his brother. It hadn’t been his Grace ripped to shreds and consumed by it.

Henry sure wasn’t helping in that regard. It was disturbing, how much of their dad he could see in Henry. That was something that Sam was sure to have picked up on.

“You know Henry wasn’t entirely wrong,” Sam said, giving Dean a small, self-deprecating smile, and Dean’s nostrils flared.

“The hell he wasn’t. He doesn’t know a damn thing about you. You’re not the Devil and you’re not evil. I will say it a million times over until I’m blue in the face.”

“Then why weren’t my wings ever pure light?” Sam challenged. “Even after I’d gotten out of the Cage, they were still dipped in darkness. There’s always a part of me that’s going to be cloaked in darkness. Call it the demon blood, call it being the Devil.”

“I thought we’d gotten past this,” Dean said, worry chewing at him. “Sammy—”

“How long was I down there, in the Cage?” Sam shook his head before continuing on, almost gently. “That sort of…experience, it doesn’t just go away. Not overnight, not even after a few months. I still have nightmares, I still don’t feel right. If my Grace came back now, maybe it would be just as twisted as it was before. Maybe it’s a good thing that it hasn’t come back on.”

As much as Dean hated admitting the truth in the words, he knew that trauma like Lucifer’s wouldn’t just disappear with a few good conversations. It would help, but it wouldn’t go away. Not after millennia of him down in the Cage. That didn’t mean that Dean was going to give up on it, nor was he going to let Sam give up on it.

No, Sam wasn’t giving up on it. It was different. This wasn’t Sam completely lost. This was Sam, worried and anxious, looking for the same conversations they’d had while road tripping. This was Lucifer, seeking Michael’s wisdom and presence.

This was a little brother looking for a big brother to help him.

Sam turned back to the window. “Y’know, I’ve wondered what Dad would’ve thought of me, his youngest son being Lucifer,” he murmured. “I guess now I know, thanks to Henry.”

It made Dean want to scream. He just wanted one thing. _One thing_ to go their way.

Something slammed in the kitchen. In an instant Dean raced back into the main room, reaching for an angel blade he no longer had, Sam right behind him.

Sidria stood, panting for air. She didn’t look hurt, though, merely tired, and Dean felt himself relax. “They’re fine,” Sidria said before he could even ask. “Everyone’s fine. The line that angels use for communicating was torn apart. No one’s prayers went anywhere.”

“No one’s?” Sam said, eyes wide. “What about Cas and Zeke?”

“Is it fixed?” Dean demanded. “Sid, is the line fixed?”

“I think so. Dean—”

_Cas, call me,_ Dean prayed fervently. _Call me right now._

For a moment, nothing happened. Then suddenly his phone rang in his pocket, and Dean all but collapsed in relief. The screen name of _Cass_ appeared, and it almost made him lose it, because Gabriel had changed the name to “C with an ass” one evening while they’d been in California, and Cas was okay, Gabe was okay.

He finally realized he needed to answer. “Cas, you okay?” he asked in lieu of a greeting.

_“I’m fine, as is Ezekiel. We had four demons assault us but they were easily dealt with. Dean, we haven’t been able to get a hold of Gabriel or Raphael or anyone. I prayed to Sidria not long ago to ask how you were and got nowhere.”_

Dean set the phone on speaker when Sam leaned in closer to hear. “Sidria says the communications center got knocked out of commission. But everyone’s okay.”

_“Thank goodness,”_ Castiel muttered. Distantly he added, _“Dean says everyone is well. There had to be a reason though. Why—?”_

Sidria cleared her throat. “The last I heard, Raphael and Gabriel had gone to heal the line. If Castiel heard your prayer, then it has to be working again. There was an attempt on Naomi’s life but Anael protected her.”

“Is she okay?” Sam asked, then he frowned. “Wait. The line goes straight through the Garden, to the trunk in the middle.” He went pale as the implications hit Dean like a ton of bricks. There was no way that Joshua would’ve let anyone mess with the prayer line. The Garden was his domain.

Which meant…

Sidria didn’t say anything. She didn’t have to. “What happened?” Rufus asked immediately, staring from the doorway. Behind him in the chair, Henry was watching them, looking just as bewildered.

“Is he,” Dean started, but then Castiel’s voice came through the phone, choked and stunned.

_“There’s…the Host is mourning. Joshua is…gone?”_

Sam turned away, clearly trying to keep his composure. Dean felt his own grief barrel through him. Joshua had been everything that was good and pure about Heaven, the one who had tended to the angels as much as to God, who had been a shoulder to lean on and an ear to listen more than once. Michael had spent a lot of time in the Garden after Lucifer had been sent down to the Cage.

Lucifer had spent a lot of time in the Garden too. And Joshua had been one of the few who had accepted him back without question, had been happy to see him free and returned to Heaven. Now he was gone, torn apart by some traitor.

Rufus seemed to recognize that there had been a loss, because he reached for a bottle of scotch and pulled out several glasses. Sidria’s eyes were closed, undoubtedly listening to the Host. Dean could imagine what it sounded like, what everyone’s songs of loss sounded like. The mourning would be spectacular because Joshua had been beloved by _everyone_. Dean wished he could hear it.

Dean was selfishly grateful that he couldn’t.

“Who the hell could’ve cut down _Joshua_?” Sam whispered. “And why?”

“You said they attacked Anael,” Dean said, trying to keep focused. They needed him focused. “Who?”

“Ariniel,” Sidria said quietly. “Gabriel sent her flying. She was trying to get to Naomi.”

If they were willing to take out Joshua to get to Naomi, then they were clearly determined to do anything at all. “She’s not safe in Heaven anymore,” Dean said. Michael, he needed to be Michael. He needed to be in control. Sidria was clearly looking to him for answers, and Castiel hadn’t hung up yet. They needed a leader.

All he wanted was just one minute to breathe.

A hand took the phone from his hand. “Cas, you and Ezekiel need to come back from your search,” Sam said. “Get to Bobby’s and tell him we’ve got an angelic visitor on the way. His place is the most defensible.”

_“We’re on our way now; we’ll meet you there.”_

“Yeah, we’re not there,” Sam said. It was only then that Dean realized his brother had his eyes locked on Henry. “We found the man out of time that Abaddon wants so badly.”

Castiel’s response was immediate. _“I’ll come to you.”_

“No, go to Bobby’s,” Sam said firmly. “We have Sidria here, along with another hunter. We have plenty of wards here too. Naomi is priority. There’s clearly something they don’t want her spilling the beans on. If we can figure out what it is, we have a chance at stopping Tabbris and Ariniel, and maybe even stopping Abaddon as well. You said you were attacked by demons?”

_“Not many, but yes. I prayed to Sidria and Gabriel to warn them and that’s when I realized my prayers went nowhere.”_

That wasn’t a coincidence. There was no way. “Be careful,” Dean told him. “They’ll try again.”

_“We will. Pray if you need us.”_

It was interesting, seeing Henry watch them with the same sort of curious, intensive look that Sam got whenever he was deep into his research. That curiosity might’ve skipped John, but it clearly hadn’t missed Sam. It sucked because in other circumstances, Sam probably would’ve gotten along with Henry like a house on fire.

At least he wasn’t looking like Sam was, well. The Devil himself. In fact, there was this look on his face as if he was starting to see the man that Sam was instead of the evil that he’d insisted on.

It was also clear that Sam didn’t know what the hell to do with it. He cleared his throat and turned to Dean. “We need to get back to Bobby’s. But we need to do it safely.”

“I’ve been meaning to drive out there,” Rufus said. “I owe him a visit. He’ll probably be our best bet in finding the spell that goes with the trinket I found.” He rubbed his hand across his chin. “Besides, I’m pretty sure you’ve got me wrapped up in this now, too.”

Yeah, they probably had. “Sorry,” Dean said with real regret. “We’re coming with you, if that helps. As soon as I get my car.”

“I can do that,” Sidria said. “Believe it or not, it’s ten times easier than carrying two of you.”

“How?” Henry asked, speaking for the first time. “A car weighs far more than a human!”

“It’s not the weight of the body,” Sidria said, and there was definitely a glare on her face. Guess she hadn’t quite forgiven Henry yet for trying to kill Sam. Dean knew the feeling. “It’s the weight of the soul. A vehicle doesn’t have a soul.”

She paused and gave Dean a look. “Sorry.”

Sam finally smiled, the first in what felt like days, and Dean rolled his eyes to hide his relief. “You just can’t see it, that’s all. She’s got plenty of soul.”

“Just bring the car,” Sam said, though there was a grin on his face. “We’ll call Bobby. And then you’re passing out in the back.”

“You’ll get no complaints from me,” Sidria agreed, and she disappeared once more.

“You’re…Dean?”

Dean glanced over at Henry who was watching him in confusion. “Um, yes?”

“But you said your name is Michael,” Henry said, then he paused, realization dawning. “Michael the _archangel_.”

“I’m Michael, and I’m Dean,” he said. Beside him, Sam seemed to realize as well that no one had referred to Dean by, well, Dean, since Henry had shown up until now. “I’m both. Just as Sam is also Lucifer. We’re human, and we’re more than that, too.”

Henry nodded slowly, eyes darting between the two of them, that curious look on his face, calculating. Dean didn’t really give two shits what he thought or saw as long as he stayed away from Sam.

Sam. He glanced at his sibling and found him sort of hanging out beside Dean, eyes on the floor. Dean desperately wanted to talk to Sam again, to finish what Sam had left hanging, but he couldn’t, not with Sidria on the way with the car and the urgency of getting to Bobby’s under his skin. There were enough angels to pull everyone there in an instant, but that much Grace and angel power, he knew, would only make them all the more visible. Better to drive there than fly.

Besides, he liked driving. And if they weren’t in completely dire need to hustle along, then he was going to get behind the wheel of his baby.

“I don’t really have spare beds,” Rufus said. “But I’ve got plenty of blankets and I think there’s an air mattress somewhere around here.”

“We’ve got one in the car,” Dean told him. “I’ll get it out and then figure out sleeping arrangements.” Including a schedule of who was up to watch Henry. For a second, all he wanted to do was land a punch in Henry’s face. He should’ve figured something like this was coming, but he’d just naively hoped that Sam’s recent confidence had managed to calm the waters, to settle his little brother’s soul.

Then a man who had resembled their dad had blown in and torn it all down, which told Dean that while maybe Sam’s faith in Dean hadn’t been shaken, Sam’s faith in himself still had some ways to go. Not just Sam’s, Lucifer’s.

Maybe that was why it wasn’t sinking in. Because Sam knew where he stood with Dean, with Bobby, with everyone. It was Lucifer who desperately needed several months of peace and talking it out. It was his Grace that needed soothing.

Dean wasn’t going to be able to do that now. Not anytime soon, either, thanks to Rufus and Henry. So when Sidria arrived and told them the car was there, then promptly curled up in a chair and passed out, Dean went and got the air mattress and sheets. They gave Henry the recliner and tied him to it in a way that he wasn’t going to get out of easily, which he seemed to take with some general resignation. Rufus offered to keep first watch, and after they moved Sidria to the sofa, it was just down to them.

The air mattress was still too short for Sam, and all Dean could suddenly see was Lucifer, curled on a cloud, wings hanging over the sides.

_“There are better places to sleep, little brother.”_

_Lucifer just glanced up at him and snorted. “I don’t need the spaces in Heaven. They’re too clean, too white.”_

_“The cloud is white,” Michael felt obliged to point out. “And the rooms would fit all of your wings, not just two of them.”_

_“The cloud is gray,” Lucifer countered, then smiled. “And it smells like rain. Come sit with me, Michael. It’s so much easier to sleep when the cloud moves you.”_

_Lucifer drifted off not too much later, and Michael stayed. He tugged another two clouds close and neatly brushed them together. All six of Lucifer’s wings fit, and there was no chance of him falling off._

_“You’re supposed to move the clouds, not the other way around,” Michael murmured. “You have the power to do just that, bright one.”_

_“S’not the point,” Lucifer murmured back. “They’re perfect just the way they are.”_

“Dean?”

He tossed the quilt over the both of them and settled back. “You okay?” Sam asked quietly. “I know I just sort of…dumped on you and then ran, but—”

“There’s nothing wrong with your Grace,” Dean said quietly. Sam paused. “You said it yourself, the trauma from the Cage can’t just be erased. But think of this: all that darkness you keep insisting is there, all of it, and your Grace is _still_ the brightest of them all.”

He shifted his pillow to a more comfortable spot. Sam was always all knees and elbows, but a night of sharing a bed with the kid wasn’t the world’s worst thing. “Maybe you were meant to be the brightest of them all so you could survive the Cage, survive the Mark,” Dean added softly. “Anyone else would’ve drowned under all of that evil. You came out the other side with the brightest soul anyone’s ever seen.”

He closed his eyes and settled in. A hand suddenly caught his under the quilt, swift and tight, and Dean squeezed back. _I’m here, little brother._

Everyone was safe. Sam was right beside him. Rufus was waking him up next in about four hours. With that knowledge, Dean finally let himself drift off to sleep.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For my friend Lissa who's going through a rough patch: I hope this helps distract for a little bit. <3

The drive back wasn’t bad or long, given their starting position. Sidria spent a lot of her time in Rufus’s truck, switching back and forth with Henry. Dean only ceded the wheel to Sam so he could ride with Henry in Rufus’s truck, leaving just Sam and Sidria in the Impala. It spoke volumes to Sam about how much Dean did _not_ want Henry anywhere close to him.

But the way that Henry had looked at him, back at Rufus’s house…it couldn’t have been Sam’s imagination. Or the way that Henry seemed willing to speak with him at stops, sharing hesitant details about his life, about his son.

Sam tried not to get attached, tried not to care, because somehow, Henry wasn’t ever going home. But he couldn’t help but share details from their lives as well: John’s quirks and characteristics, Sam’s acceptance into Stanford, the things he’d studied there. Maybe it was because of the conversations he’d had with Dean while in Gabriel’s apartment; maybe it was because Henry clearly valued bookish knowledge over a hunter’s way of life. Whatever it was, Sam found himself talking about the chemistry class that had honestly been more alchemy than modern studies, or the way he’d blown through the Latin courses, and Henry seemed to listen.

It wasn’t exactly the warmest of conversations. But Henry spent some time replying, and by the time they hit Bobby’s a few days later, Henry was even asking questions, clearly curious about Sam’s life.

Perhaps the best part of the tense exchange, if there could be a best part, was that Sam wasn’t the only one who talked. Henry shared things about his wife, Millie, and even Dean seemed to listen intently. It was a world that Sam had never expected to hear about, family he’d never truly had the chance to know, and Henry had even smiled a few times, sharing John’s exploits or Millie’s way of laughing through the worst of things.

It felt like a gift, in a way.

They pulled into Bobby’s without any issues and Sam couldn’t help the sigh of relief when they did. “That could’ve gone worse,” Dean agreed.

“What _is_ this place?”

The shock and disdain from Henry made Sam grin. “Bobby’s place. Best wards for hundreds of miles around.”

“Hidden in plain sight,” Dean said, and Henry then did exactly what Sam had anticipated he’d do: his frown evened out as he viewed Bobby’s in a new light. _Iron fencing_ and _wind chime charms_ and _flower pots of herbs_ , and that was just what was viewable from the front. To the untrained eye, it was a residence in the middle of a salvage yard. To hunters, it was defendable and a safe house.

For Sam and Dean, it was the closest to home outside of the car that they’d ever had.

He wasn’t at all surprised to find Bobby waiting for them on the porch. Sam did raise his eyebrows a little at the shotgun hanging casually from his hip. It reminded Sam of the dozens of times they’d shown up as kids, John having to make peace with Bobby before they could enter.

Oh. _Oh_. It shouldn’t have warmed him, but it did.

“Singer,” Rufus called as they headed for the porch. “That for me?”

“Not unless it needs to be,” Bobby said. His eyes didn’t leave Henry as their grandfather was hauled along by Dean, hands tied in front of him.

Dean just grinned. Henry cleared his throat. “I’d like to request refuge,” he said in a formal tone. “And I understand you’re the best library for finding the spell I need to time travel home.”

“I might,” Bobby drawled. “We gonna have an issue with you shooting Sam? Because I take issue with someone takin’ pot shots at my sons.”

Sam inhaled, just a little, the word falling so easily from Bobby’s lips more noticeable than anything else. He knew it was how Bobby felt. But sometimes, hearing it was still a shock.

Henry blinked. The pause was enough for Bobby to jerk the shotgun towards the house. “You can hang out with our other guest,” he said. “She arrived yesterday. Bein’ tended to by someone who still needs some tendin’ to herself. Stubborn ass. Wonder where she earned it from.”

“Anael?” Sam asked. “Does she seem okay?”

“Tired, but alive. Which, given what your new two recruits told me, was awful close.”

Two new recruits? The answer came as soon as a man with a short afro poked his head out from around the corner. Which meant he had to be… “Nathaniel,” Dean greeted. “Hannah with you?”

“With Anael,” he said. “I wanted to see you for myself, Michael. It’s been too long since I’ve seen you. Truly, seen you both.” He turned a smile towards Sam. “I’m glad you are well, Heylel. Or do you prefer Lucifer?”

“Sam works just fine,” he said after he managed to get his mouth to work. “Thank you for helping, Nathaniel. You were always a good one to count on in a crisis.”

“True enough there,” Dean agreed, and Nathaniel all but glowed. It still never failed to catch Sam, sometimes, just how much their words as Michael and Lucifer meant to the younger angels. It was a little humbling, honestly.

Rufus cleared his throat. “Can we take this under wards?”

They moved inside where Ellen promptly met them at the door. “Ellen,” Rufus said with clear surprise. “I didn’t realize you were wrapped up in this, too.”

“I’m always involved when it’s family,” she said, then moved her gaze until it landed on Henry. Her eyes narrowed. “We gonna have a problem?”

“I doubt it,” Sam said. He could all but hear Dean’s frustrated sigh but Sam honestly didn’t think that Henry would try anything. At least, he hoped he wouldn’t. Sam figured his judgement wasn’t that skewed.

Memories from their time in California came back to him, Dean crouched in front of him one night. _“You didn’t make a bad call. A bad call got made on you. We both got screwed, Sammy. Just remember that.”_

His memories moved to some from a long time ago, long before the apartment in California had even existed.

_“I shouldn’t have done that. It was, it was poor judgement. Father was right.”_

_“It was a gracious judgement,” Michael countered. “You went first with your heart before reason.”_

_“Raphael would call it foolishness.”_

_“Raphael does lean towards reason, yes, and it serves him well in healing. But Raphael longs to feel as you do, with your heart pushing you towards your answers.”_

_His hand rested on Lucifer’s wing. “I lean on your judgement to help guide me. I don’t think that makes me foolish in the slightest.”_

An elbow nudged into his side, pulling him back just in time to see Jo round the corner. Her lips were pursed and she shoved past Bobby and Ellen with righteous fervor. “Jo—”

“I’m going to tell you this once,” Jo hissed, all but nose to nose with Henry. “If you try and hurt Sam or Dean, you’ll answer to the business end of my rifle. And then my knife. Do you understand?”

“Atta girl,” Ellen murmured with clear pride.

“We’re good,” Dean assured her. He gave Jo a wink from behind Henry, who looked properly concerned for his well-being, then stole a glance back at Sam. _You good?_

Sam gave a brief nod. _Tell you later,_ he mouthed, and Dean seemed to accept that.

“Well now that we’re all introduced, we should probably go check on everyone else.”

“She’s downstairs,” Bobby said. Sam felt his chest tighten and tried to force it down. It was the safest place for everyone, and he could do this. It wasn’t the Cage, and it wasn’t going to close behind him. It was a safe place.

Something got shoved at him, making him grunt and take a step back. “I got a few books for you to look at,” Bobby said. “You good to help?”

“I’ll be right back up,” Dean said, already at the stairs. “Get a head start with him.”

“You can get the first mug of coffee I got brewing,” Ellen agreed.

Sam huffed a laugh, so unbearably full of love that he couldn’t help the smile. “I’m okay, really. I want to make sure Anael and Naomi are all right.”

Everyone made a face at having been caught out, but no one said anything. Dean didn’t look thrilled by it for sure, but he finally nodded. “I’ll be right back,” Sam promised Bobby, handing the books back, and he headed downstairs.

From the doorway, it was clear that it had settled in nicely as a safe refuge. The warding was neatly hidden behind shelves, and the bedding spoke heavily of Ellen’s touch. There was even an easy chair in there now, one that looked like it extended long enough for Sam’s height. The numerous lights in the room were soft and glowing, adding to the ambiance.

It still took a slightly deeper than usual breath for him to step through the doorway.

Dean was busy getting Henry into a chair. “Can I be unrestrained?” Henry asked.

“You going to behave?” Dean asked.

Henry raised an eyebrow. “Where can I possibly go beyond this cage you’ve got me in?”

Sam flinched. Even as Dean caught it, even as he began to frown in concern, Sam turned his attention instead to the other side, where Anael sat next to Naomi. Anael smiled when he approached and attempted to rise, but he motioned her to stay seated. “How are you?” he asked.

“I’ve been better,” she admitted. “She caught me deeper than I thought. But I’ll be all right. Raphael did a great job mending and now I just need time for my Grace to recover.”

His eyes turned to Naomi. She hadn’t moved, eyes locked on nothing, murmuring something under her breath. “What about…her?”

“It’s random things.” Anael cast a slightly uneasy gaze at the other angel before turning back to Sam. “Something about prophets and Michael’s will. ‘We are not safe until his will be done,’ is a favorite phrase. Then it’s just ‘Michael’s will’ over and over again. And your name, randomly.” She hesitated before continuing. “She doesn’t…seem unhappy with you. I don’t think it’s in a bad way.”

No, Sam didn’t think so either, but it still didn’t make any sense. “Prophets?” he asked instead. “Does it have to do with Michael’s will?”

“Somewhere in there, yes. ‘The prophet understands. Michael’s will must be done.’”

“So prophets are involved,” Dean asked, coming over.

Anael made a face. “I guess you don’t know what she’s talking about, either.”

“Not a damn clue. I have to guess it’s wrapped up in whatever Abaddon’s doing.”

“Or Tabbris,” Sam agreed.

“Could Tabbris have...killed Joshua?”

Sam turned, startled at the quiet voice from the corner. There stood a young woman, nervously tucking her brown hair behind her ear. “Hannah,” Anael began, but Hannah shook her head.

“No, don’t. I…just want to know. He was beyond out of control when Castiel called us and begged for help some months ago, but he was still an angel. Is still an angel. Joshua has not harmed anyone, he has only been good. Tell me it wasn’t Tabbris.”

It made him hurt because this, this he remembered: the strong angel with courage and conviction whose heart sometimes got the better of her. Like now, when she was clearly overwhelmed. She’d been more Michael’s faithful follower, much like Nathaniel had been, but she’d sought refuge with Lucifer a time or two. Michael had been a calm influence, ready to offer a steady shoulder to lean on and an ear always available to listen.

Lucifer had let her howl and throw things and feel every inch of her emotions until she’d cooled off. Between the two of them, Sam figured, she’d come out the other side okay.

Dean moved forward and took her hands in his. She watched him with the same awe that Sam had gotten used to seeing. “I can’t say that it wasn’t him,” Dean told her. “But I can’t say that it was. Ariniel’s clearly involved.”

“She was always easily led,” Anael said bitterly. “Without a leader, she feels rudderless.”

The door clanged against the wall and Sam startled, glancing at the doorway. Just Nathaniel, pushing the door further open to move in. Still open. Not closed. Not banging shut. They were fine.

“Many of the angels do,” Nathaniel said. “That’s not a bad thing, Anael.”

“Maybe it is now,” Anael challenged.

“I did break protocol to take Tabbris in hand,” Hannah admitted softly. “Though technically I followed orders. I just followed Castiel’s call for help over Tabbris’s call to arms.”

Dean held up his hands. “Wait, Tabbris called the attack? It wasn’t ordained from on high?”

“Tabbris spoke of an insurrection down on Earth,” Nathaniel said. “He said he’d gotten his orders from God and that we were to go down immediately. Clearly, he was wrong.”

The bed creaked beneath Anael as she shifted. Sam knew that creak, the creak of the springs from the metal bed frame. He knew what those springs felt like, just as hard as the bars of the Cage.

He shut his eyes for a moment. When he opened them, everyone was staring at him. “Sam,” Dean began, eyes full of concern.

Shit. “I’m going to see if I can help Rufus and Bobby with the spell,” he said, lips feeling numb. He managed to walk out of the room, each step heavy until he hit the stairway. Then it all came back to him, breathing and existing and panic and he all but raced up the stairs. When he hit the top, he realized he was close to hyperventilating.

Shit shit _shit_. Guess he wasn’t as ready for the room as he’d thought. If he couldn’t even handle a stupid _room_ then how was he supposed to calm down and focus enough to get his Grace back?

He rubbed a hand over his face and headed for the library. Bobby and Rufus were indeed there, and on the table between them was a rusty looking medallion. “Is that it?” Sam asked.

Rufus nodded. “The one and only. No idea what spell goes with it, but I’d imagine it’s Latin.”

“There’s a lot that offer blessings to Janus, who was said to guard the doors of time,” Bobby explained. “Some that request more time to be granted to them. But I haven’t found a damn one that asks to transport through the doors.”

A problem was good. A problem was something that Sam could focus on and not the downstairs room. He could also not focus on the quickening steps of what was sure to be his big brother, making good time up the stairs by the sound of it. “What about…a spirit walking spell?” Sam asked. “Like the out of body one we did?”

“Kinda figure it’s his whole body going,” Bobby said, but he seemed to be mulling it over.

“So there’s a modification. Is there something like that in there?”

“You don’t know the answer?” Rufus asked, eyebrow raised. “I mean, you’re the archangel here. I figured you knew all the answers to everything.”

“No infinite knowledge here,” Dean told him, coming up behind Sam. “Trust me, it’d be nice. But if anyone’s got a chance of figuring it out, it’d still be Sam.”

Bobby was already pouring over another book. “That’s a damn shame,” Rufus said. “It’d be nice to get ahead of what’s going on for a change.”

“I hear ya,” Bobby muttered. “Time travelin’ would be useful right about now. Too bad we don’t know what’s coming.”

It felt like a light bulb going off. A very hot one that sent all of Sam’s thoughts flying at a rapid pace.

Could it be done? Could he manage it? _How_ could he do it?

He turned and immediately headed for the front door. “Sam?” Dean called after him, concern only growing, but he didn’t stop until he’d gotten down the front porch and into the gravel and dirt of the yard. The cool breeze made him feel like he was flying, and with his boots in the earth, he felt more grounded.

He’d done it before, sort of, but he’d needed Andy’s help. Now, maybe, with the practice he’d done and his experience as an archangel, he could do it all on his own.

He closed his eyes and focused on that feeling from when he’d taken control. It was there, almost an echo of how his Grace felt—

Hands caught hold of his shoulders and pulled, hard, forcing Sam to open his eyes. Dean stood there in front of him and he didn’t look particularly thrilled. “What the hell are you doing?” Dean asked. “Are you having a vision?”

“I’m _trying_ to, yeah,” Sam said and closed his eyes again. This time, the pull felt far more like an angry tug, and Sam stumbled off-balance. “Dean—!”

“You’re trying to have one?” Dean asked incredulously. “What does that even mean?”

“Gabriel said I could control it, and he was right, so I thought, what if I could do it the other way? I managed to control it and make it show me where Henry was.”

“That wasn’t you actively seeking the vision out, that was you controlling what came at you, like roping a wild horse. Not asking it to charge at you!”

He knew it was fear under Dean’s anger and frustration, he got that. But it didn’t make the lack of apparent faith any more painful. “You said you trusted me,” Sam said quietly.

“I do,” Dean said immediately and without hesitation. “I…” He swallowed hard and finally sighed. “Trusting you is never the question, Heylel.”

It eased Sam immediately, just like his big brother had probably known it would. It suggested more than belief, it suggested the greatest amount of trust that Michael could ever bestow on him. Dean still looked uncertain, but he rolled his shoulders back and stood firm. There for Sam, no matter what he needed, even with his own reservations. He felt himself breathe.

“Then let me try,” Sam told him, all but pleading. “I have to try. If Abaddon is trying to use Henry as bait for me, then we could all be in danger. And that’s not something I’m going to risk.”

“You don’t have Grace, Luce,” Dean said, and it was Michael in every aspect of him, including the down-turned mouth. “I don’t want to keep beating on that dead horse but it’s true. And I get it, okay? I get the whole damn thing of not being able to help and feeling useless because the Grace is gone.” His face twisted up into the same frustrated self-loathing that Sam could feel in his own veins. There were days when all Sam wanted was to wake up with his Grace back, to be able to fly, to protect everyone with more than a Glock or shotgun.

It was the one thing that they’d never really talked too extensively about, in those two months. They’d spent too long trying to desperately live without it, to enjoy being human brothers, to appreciate the peace that they’d fought so hard for. And it hadn’t been wasted time: they’d talked a lot. A _lot_. It had been some of the best days Sam had ever had. He was more comfortable in his skin than ever before.

It still didn’t take away from the fact that without his Grace, he felt…empty. Less.

But he could do this. This, this he could do and he could keep them all safe.

“I just don’t want you doing this, trying to be everything and burning your very human self out doing so. I can live without the Grace. I can’t live without you.”

Always about Sam first. “I can do this,” Sam told him urgently. “I know I can. Let me try.”

Dean stared at him for a good long while before slowly, finally, nodding. “I’m right here.”

“I know that, too.” Giving Dean a smile, he closed his eyes.

If he thought about it like Grace, it sort of worked the same: something beyond his human capabilities, something more. But it wasn’t the warmth or the ease that his Grace usually was. No, this was a different sort of warmth. It felt more like he had when he’d been trying to keep the blackness of the reeducation at bay. His soul: it had to be his soul.

It made him hesitate, just briefly. He had no idea how hard he could push his soul, if he could even do what he wanted it to do. He remembered how much he’d desperately clung to his soul to protect his Grace, to protect Michael and Gabriel and Raphael.

Sam pursed his lips. He’d pushed it far harder then. He could definitely do this now.

Slowly he reached out, seeking out that feeling. How it had felt to control the vision, and it came easier this time, the strength bolstering him and keeping him tethered. He was aware of some other warmth near him, something stronger than him, and he realized it was Dean’s soul. It wasn’t Grace, but it was close. So, so close.

Taking a deep breath in, he tried to find the same feeling that the visions gave him. A string with a punch at the end, burning as it funneled back from the future. Five four three two gulp as it swallowed him whole—

_Abaddon, still wearing her party dress, stood outside._

Almost there. He could reach it, he could control it—

_“Come fly with me, Luce.”_

No, not the past, the future, but he could feel Michael’s Grace against his, bright green eyes watching him carefully with so much love. That love that had bolstered him through numerous years, dozens upon hundreds of different situations that had nearly taken their lives but it had been his big brother’s love that had seen him through. It was the sole thing that he had come to rely on, to lean on when things went south. It was wrapped around him, the best armor and weapon and shield he could’ve asked for.

And then he was there.

_Abaddon, still wearing her party dress, stood outside. The road she walked was empty save for three people following behind her. Their black eyes watched her with no small amount of fear. She commanded respect the hard way. They loved that. They feared that._

_“It’s here somewhere,” Abaddon said. “I know it is. Why can’t I find it? Or rather,” and she turned, sending the three demons skittering backwards. “Why can’t you find it?”_

_“We’ve tried,” one of the demons said hesitantly. “It needs the key. The one that Henry Winchester has.”_

_“Is there a particular reason you haven’t found him yet? He found one of our own, and yet you can’t find him? Or Lucifer? Archangels should be easy to spot. And this one in particular should’ve heard my siren call already.”_

_She paused, frowning. “It’s like he’s not even here.”_

_“Maybe he’s in, uh, Heaven? Doing Heavenly things?”_

_“I’d have known if that were the case,” she said cryptically. “Trust me. Even out here in the middle of nowhere of Kansas, I’d have been informed.”_

_She glanced back out at the road. “If Henry won’t give me the key, then I’ll figure out another way to get in. I want that…”_

_She said something but Sam couldn’t hear it. He walked around her, looking her over. She clearly held power in the easy, casual stance she used. She was one to not be trifled with. It reminded him of Asmodeus._

_With a sigh she gave her followers a look. “I want French fries. And a milkshake.”_

_“We can get that for you,” one of the demons said eagerly. “Lebanon is just around the corner. Lots of places are open after nine on Friday night.”_

_Abaddon didn’t look as if that part bothered her, but she let it slide. “It’s good to know you can find something I want. Don’t make a mess; I don’t need the current ruler of Hell knowing where we are. He’ll know soon enough. I almost have everything I need to make my move.”_

_“Of course…my queen,” the demon said, bowing low. She gave him a bright, wide smile._

_“Good boy. Now go fetch. The rest of you can get ready: we’ll have guests soon.”_

_He left and Sam found her pulling out a piece of paper. He walked behind her and peered over her shoulder. The Men of Letters symbol stood at the top, with coordinates below it. INITIATES MUST USE THE KEY THEY HAVE FOUND read beneath it._

_“Oh, Josie,” Abaddon murmured. “If only you’d made it in properly before I took you. You’d have been so much more useful if you’d known where the key was and how to get in.”_

_She paused, frowning, and turned towards Sam, making him stumble backwards. The vision shifted, shifted again, and he felt as if he were falling. Abaddon seemed to see through him and yet see him all at once, and he had to pull back. He knew what he needed to know now, and he gathered himself up and pushed out._

The world was dark when he opened his eyes. Something poked him in the back, and it felt like rocks. His mouth was dry and his head felt like it was put on backwards.

There were two faces in front of him, or rather, above him, and neither of them looked happy. “Got it,” he said, or tried to. His mouth wasn’t working right.

“Gabriel,” Dean said tightly, but Gabriel was already shaking his head.

“It’s psychic, I can’t do anything about it.”

“The hell do you mean, you can’t do anything?” Bobby yelled from somewhere above Sam. “Explain to me how an archangel can’t handle psychic energy?”

“Because psychic energy comes from the soul, and if I start messing with his soul, we’ll be in way worse straits than we are right now. _Breathe_ , Samshine.”

Had he stopped? Oh, guess he sort of had. It was really hard to focus on things. Everything kept sort of fading in and out. Ironic, that he’d had so much control over what was to come and had absolutely no control over what was now.

_Gabriel, I know where Abaddon is_ , he tried to project, but Gabriel reared back like he’d been slapped.

“Holy _crap_ that was loud and not at all a language I know. Just, just take it easy, all right?”

“What happened?” Dean demanded.

Gabriel rolled his eyes, or at least, Sam thought he did. “Genius is trying to tell me something. What in the name of Heaven were you thinking, by the way? We were barely managing small mental projections when I left and then I come back to you _inducing_ a real vision?”

“Don’t look at me,” Dean said, angry and frustrated and oh, that was definitely fear adding to the bite in his voice. “I recommended he not do the stupid thing.”

“Found her,” Sam said, and he couldn’t keep the glee out of his voice. He laughed and choked on it and then laughed some more. “I did it. I _did it_.”

Gabriel and Dean both stared. “You actually did it?” Bobby said, sounding stunned.

Sam just grinned, or tried to. “Lebanon, Kansas. Lookin’ for Men of Letters. Friday night. Ask Henry. Initiate key.”

Then he stopped fighting the feeling and passed out.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy new year! Have a new chapter.

The silence in the living room didn’t last long, after they got Sam settled on the sofa. Not when Bobby turned to Dean, incredulity in his gaze. “I can’t believe you let him do that.”

“What the hell else was I supposed to do?” Dean exploded, because somebody needed to understand just how damn trapped he’d been. Alone with Sam’s earnest eyes that had faded into the same hurt look he’d seen too many times in his life. Like downstairs, in the panic room, where Sam had fought so hard to keep his anxiety under control. Or the same look he’d gotten after Gabriel had pulled them out of the chapel all those months ago and left them at Bobby’s. Or the pained face he’d made after Henry had called him the devil.

Gabriel groaned. “Okay, in your defense, that’s a lethal look. And you’ve never been good at denying him anything.”

“He begged me to trust him,” Dean said. He sank down into a nearby chair and watched as Sam slept on the sofa across from him. “Asked if I still did.”

“Of course you do,” Bobby said. He was seated by the desk near the door, Ellen and Rufus still going through books behind him. “Sam’s the only one who’s ever questioned that. Or am I wrong?”

“I do trust him,” Dean said, his voice quiet. When Gabriel frowned at his tone, he just shook his head. “I trust him with everything and I always have, except one thing. The only thing I’ve never trusted Lucifer with, or Sam with, has been himself.”

Ellen sighed. “He did do it, though. We know where she’ll be and we know what she’s looking for.”

Something gentle nudged against shoulder, making Dean look up at Gabriel. Gabriel just gave a small smile, the warmth from his wing still there. “You could’ve been ambushed,” he said softly. “Go easy on him. Trust me, he’ll have a headache enough as punishment.”

That was a fair point. He forced himself to take a deep breath and blow it out as a heavy sigh. Too much in too short a period of time. His mind flashed to Joshua and he cringed. He hoped wherever Joshua had ended up that he was at peace. He deserved that much.

He cleared his throat. “You and Raphael flying off? And where _is_ Raph, anyway?”

Gabriel snorted. “Are you kidding me? Until both of you either get your Graces back or remember that you’re currently without them, we’re sticking with you. Raphael’s checking on his patients now that I’ve assured him that Sam’s okay, Naomi’s here and safe, Anael’s healing, Hannah and Nathaniel just left to report back on Heaven, and Abaddon’s as good as caught.”

“Don’t jinx it,” Bobby growled.

Still, Dean had to admit, Sam’s insistence to look ahead had bought them some time, as well as assurance. Abaddon was clearly seeking Henry out and hoping to catch Lucifer all in one fell swoop. And getting ahead of her, well. That was worth it. Especially if it kept his siblings safe.

The last demon who had gotten a hold of his brothers had hurt them in ways that Dean wished he could undo. Or hurt Asmodeus back. Yeah, he’d love another chance at that, but he wasn’t likely to get that.

“It’s the thought that counts,” Gabriel said with a grin. “Seriously though, Samshine did good. Take the big brother hat off for a minute and appreciate that he took control of his own visions for once.”

That, he couldn’t deny. Except for him passing out, Sam had done what Dean would’ve thought was impossible without Grace. And he’d done it with just psychic energy. _Psychic_ apparently equaling _soul_.

He wondered if that was why the visions had gotten so bad after Dad had died: because Sam’s soul had felt so lost. And wow was that ugly to think about.

_Says a lot about how he feels now if he can conjure up visions and manage them._

Gabriel’s voice, spoken firmly, went a long way towards finally helping Dean relax for the first time since Sam had gone unresponsive.

He’d stood there, watching Sam’s eyes close and his face glaze over, until he’d had to grab hold of Sam, something, anything to try and help. Then it had been a necessity, not just a big brother thing, when Sam’s knees had buckled.

And somehow in his panic, he’d prayed to Gabriel, because there’d been a rush of wings and Gabriel had come out of nowhere to help lower Sam to the ground. Sam still hadn’t responded, had barely breathed, until suddenly he had. Groggily grinned at them, mumbled something, and then had passed out again. The thin trail of blood coming out of his nose hadn’t helped Dean’s blood pressure any.

But they were right. In the end, Sam had done it. With Michael’s faith in him (which Dean hadn’t missed, how Sam had responded to Heylel) Sam had done what had been considered impossible before. It was a good thing, and it meant they had a leg up on Abaddon. For once, they were ahead of the curve.

How willing Sam had been to throw himself in front of a speeding bullet made Dean wary, all the same. It was a recurring pattern, had been for years but even more so since he’d become Lucifer again, and quite frankly, Dean was sort of over it. As much as he loved Sam being confident about himself, he wasn’t thrilled with the sudden determination to do it all and possibly kill himself in the process.

_Uh, pot, meet kettle._

“All right already,” Dean muttered, glaring at Gabriel. Gabriel didn’t look the slightest bit intimidated. Brat. “We need to talk to Henry.”

“I’ll get him,” Ellen said with a saccharine smile. Rufus and Bobby both winced as she headed to the basement stairs with enthusiasm.

Even Gabriel watched her go with wide eyes. “That woman is frightening,” he said with a serious amount of awe.

Dean could only imagine what was currently flying through Ellen’s mind. She didn’t take kindly to anyone hurting her family, and that included Sam. Henry was probably in for a rough discussion, again, before he even got dragged up. He wondered, briefly, if he ought to tell Ellen to bring him up alive.

“Who’s frightening?” Jo asked, coming in from the library.

“Your mama went to get our prisoner,” Rufus told her.

Jo’s eyes hardened. “You’re letting her get him? Why wasn’t I asked?”

“And again I say, that woman is frightening,” Gabriel said, eyes now on Jo with the same level of respect.

Jo just crossed her arms. “He told Sam he was evil and tried to kill him. Someone needs to remind him that he’s on our turf threatening our family.”

“You did that already, honey,” Bobby said, as gently and almost as placidly as Dean had ever heard from him. Gabriel’s grin was too big to ignore by anyone, and it didn’t diminish when Bobby flipped him off. Dean felt his lips turn up, unable to help himself.

“Yeah, well, I want to make sure it actually sunk into his skull. Winchester men take some convincing on just about everything.”

“Hey,” Dean protested, but he was summarily ignored. He wasn’t the problem here. Well. At least not at the moment.

The sound of footsteps caught Dean’s attention. Henry was being dragged up the stairs by Ellen, who had a grip on…

Dean almost laughed. It took everything he had to not burst out at the sight of Ellen, her fingers wrapped tightly around Henry’s left ear, pulling him along like an errant child. Henry stumbled over his own feet as he fought to keep up with her punishing pace. Perhaps the most telling part of the entire image was the fact that while Henry was wincing in pain, he was very much not arguing with her.

She’d put the fear of Ellen Harvelle in him, that much was certain.

She finally let go when they reached the living room, letting him stand upright in front of Dean. Dean slowly rose to his full height, noting with a small amount of smugness that he was taller than Henry by at least two inches. Something that made Henry shrink back, but not by much. Henry had made it into the Men of Letters, an exclusive group of scholars and individuals who needed the same steel spine as hunters, in a way. He wouldn’t scare easy.

It made Ellen’s clear dominance that much funnier.

Henry’s eyes darted past him, brow furrowing. “Is he…all right?” he asked hesitantly.

Dean glanced behind and realized it was Sam that Henry was watching, unconscious and pale on the sofa. “He will be,” Dean said. “He found the demon that took your friend, Josie.”

Henry startled at that. “He did? How?”

“By risking himself,” Gabriel said, striding over casually. Despite the clear height difference with Gabriel being the shorter one now, the golden Grace in his eyes was far more intimidating than either Dean or Ellen. Henry took a clear step backwards, staring in shock. Gabriel gave a sharp grin. “In order to help make sure you don’t become demon chow.”

“I wouldn’t expect anything less from my little brother.”

Dean felt his shoulders drop in relief at the familiar voice. Raphael came up from behind Ellen, making Henry turn in surprise. “We haven’t been introduced,” Raphael said. “I’m Raphael, archangel. That’s Gabriel. I heard you’ve taken issue with my other little brother.”

“I—”

“Let me make something very, _very_ clear,” Raphael continued. His eyes flashed a bright and angry blue, leaving Henry trapped between Raphael and Gabriel. “Lucifer is, and will always be, my little brother, just as much as Gabriel is, just as much as Michael is my older brother. They are all very dear to me, but it wasn’t until recently that I was able to get Lucifer back. I have no intention of losing him again, especially not to a man who has some misconceptions regarding my brother being evil.”

“Lucifer is the Devil,” Henry said, though he sounded cautious. “This is what we know.”

“What you know is wrong. There is none brighter, kinder, and more willing to give of himself to help another than Lucifer.” Raphael narrowed his gaze. “Something, from the thoughts tumbling around in your head, that you’ve come to recognize for yourself.”

Henry reared back. “You can read thoughts?”

“We don’t usually do it without asking,” Gabriel said, still dangerously casual. Dean hid his smirk and noticed Bobby doing the same. “But in your instance, we’re making an exception.”

Dean finally brought himself forward until he was nearly nose to nose with Henry. Henry clearly felt uneasy with Ellen and Raphael at his back, but he met Dean’s gaze as evenly as he could. “The question is, are you going to cause issues with my little brother?” Dean asked. “Because hurting Sam, hurting Luce, it’s not something anyone here is going to tolerate. Least of all me.”

“You’re not an archangel like they are,” Henry said, but it was half a question.

Dean gave a nasty grin. “I don’t need to have my Grace to deal with you.”

After a moment, he gave a nod. “You have my vow. I won’t try and hurt him. Or anyone else here.”

About time. He wasn’t intending on welcoming Henry to the fold anytime soon, but it would be nice if he could trust the man beyond his vision. With Raphael and Gabriel there, there was no way that Henry would be able to try anything. Dean stepped back, giving his grandfather space.

A groan from the sofa arrested Dean’s immediate attention, and he left Henry with the others to hurry to Sam’s side. “Sammy?”

“Ow,” Sam mumbled.

“Dumbass,” Dean said, but relief made him slump over. “Maybe next time don’t just lunge in like that?”

“I prefer you in one piece, bright one,” Raphael said. The cold and wrathful tone was gone, and the warmth and love were clear to hear. He rested a hand on Sam’s forehead and raised an eyebrow. “As much as I appreciate your efforts, sacrificing yourself isn’t one I’d like you to keep doing.”

“ _Thank_ you,” Dean muttered.

Sam rolled his eyes, then shut his eyes tight. “Yeah, of course you’re dizzy,” Gabriel said with a snort. “No offense, but you deserve that, Samshine.”

“And what else was I supposed to do?” Sam asked after a moment, scowling at them. “I think I’m the one that does visions at the moment.”

“You think we can’t help bolster you?” Gabriel said incredulously. “You might not have been feeling like you got hit by a truck if you’d called us to help.”

That, at least, got the response Dean had been looking for: guilt. “Fair point,” Sam admitted.

Raphael and Gabriel both looked at Dean, and Dean just sighed but nodded. There wasn’t much more he could try and hammer into Sam’s skull, and time looked like it was of the essence. As per usual. “What did you see, Sammy?”

“Abaddon, outside of Lebanon, Kansas,” Sam said immediately. “Abaddon’s trying to get into the Men of Letters headquarters. She’s looking for something. Friday night, late.”

“So we’ve got some time, then,” Gabriel said. “Two days until Friday. You reached way ahead, Luce. Holy cow.”

Sam gave a faint grin and put his arm over his eyes. “Bobby,” Dean said, and Bobby headed for the bathroom. It sort of sucked that they had a drill for this, but the important thing at this point was to get Sam relief from what had to be a hell of a headache.

“A psychic vision, right?”

Dean stiffened and didn’t miss Sam tensing, too. “Your point?” Bobby asked, narrowing his gaze at Henry.

Henry didn’t seem too bothered by their glaring at him. He’d probably gotten used to it, at this point. “Psychic energy was presumed to come from the chakras, or from the blessing of the gods. We always assumed it had something to do with the soul. If that’s the case, calendula and lavender steeped with some tourmaline or fluorite might help.” He gestured to the room around them. “You’re clearly a man of learning. You have to have these items on hand, I’m sure.”

If Henry had been hoping to earn some good will by complimenting Bobby, Dean could’ve told him it wasn’t worth trying. He’d threatened one of Bobby’s boys. Bobby didn’t say anything, just looked to Raphael. “Worth my time?”

“It might be, yes,” Raphael said, clearly thinking it through. “The stones may help connect to the soul while the herbs help the body. It won’t hurt Sam, if that’s what you’re asking.”

With a final glare at Henry, Bobby headed off. He was sure to be back with the washcloth and pain relievers first, though. Dean’s lips turned up.

Sam didn’t say anything, but it was clear that he was feeling it. “Anything I can do?” Dean asked quietly.

In response, Sam held out his free hand. Dean took it without hesitation and held on. This was familiar, from human to angel. He’d spent his childhood holding on to Sam’s hand through broken hearts and illnesses. He’d done the same with Lucifer in the Cage, holding on tight while Lucifer had desperately fought to keep his strength.

Raphael didn’t move, his hand still on the crown of Sam’s head. Probably doing his best with his Grace, trying to heal where he could. Gabriel alone seemed to stay away, but Dean knew without a doubt that if he could see them, there’d be wings covering and wrapping around Sam. Helping however they could, staying by each other’s side.

He didn’t realize that Jo had left until she came back with a cup of water. Bobby appeared a moment later with a damp washcloth and a familiar pill bottle. Ellen caught the quilt over the top of the chair and Dean couldn’t help but think, _Lucifer, if you could see how much everyone’s surrounding you, you’d never doubt how much you were loved again._

Even Rufus came forward, though his eyes were on Henry. “Need me to get him elsewhere?” he asked, casting his voice low in deference to Sam’s clear pain.

“No,” Sam mumbled. “Henry needs to hear it. She needs a key to get in. She wants something from their headquarters.”

“Files?” Ellen asked. “Weapons?”

“And any number of mystical objects,” Henry said. He took a seat in the chair, and his eyes glazed over, clearly thinking at a rapid pace. “There’s at least several rooms with dangerous items, items of great power, things that are specifically used for certain spells. I don’t even know what all is in there, to be sure. But if she’s looking for something specific, then that means…”

“She took your friend for a reason,” Sam finished. Henry nodded absently, face twisted in a familiar way. Oh: looked like Sam came by his self-loathing honestly. Dean knew that expression well.

A fast thinker, too, smart as a whip. It was clear where Sam had gotten a lot of his traits from, watching Henry. He wasn’t sure how well his little brother would take that at the moment, though.

Dean shook himself. “Did Josie work in the headquarters?”

“The bunker? Not often, but she was part of the delivery team while she’d worked on becoming an initiate. She was the best at moving inventory. No one suspected a young woman, and many underestimated her intelligence.” Henry shook his head. “It made me spitting mad, but Josie said she liked it that way. Regardless, she’d know what’s there a lot better than I would.”

“Bunker?” Rufus asked, sounding intrigued. While Dean was interested too, it was more the way that Henry spoke about Josie that caught his attention. Because that…

That sounded a lot like how Dean felt about Sam, protecting someone dear to him. Guess he’d gotten a few traits from his grandfather, too.

“What type of things did she work in?” Jo asked. “Anything specific?”

“Mystical items,” Henry said immediately. “Rare ones.”

Gabriel inhaled sharply. “Like, say, dragon scales?”

Dean froze. He’d completely forgotten about that whole thing. “Yes,” Henry said slowly. “Why?”

Shit. Shit shit _shit._ “So that is connected,” Raphael said. “Whatever the demons are doing with rare items, it’s directly connected to Abaddon’s plans.”

“She said she’d be informed.”

Dean frowned, turning to Sam. He’d pulled his arm away from his face, and beneath the washcloth on his forehead, he looked pale but concerned. “Dean, she said she’d have been informed if Lucifer was in Heaven.”

Raphael’s eyes flared an angry blue. It was a sentiment that Dean shared because that meant…

That meant that Tabbris and Abaddon had to be working together. Which meant that Sam wasn’t safe anywhere. Both sides were looking for Lucifer and Dean could feel his blood all but boiling.

No one was touching his little brother. No one.

For a split second, Dean watched as Gabriel’s wings came into view, solid and gold-tipped and wrapped as firmly around Sam as he’d imagined. Raphael’s, too, were up to shield, and both of them were all but glowing in protective fury. A moment later, and the visual was gone. He knew what he’d seen.

It had to be his Grace. It _had_ to be. But why wouldn’t it come online and stay online?

And why was it coming online at all?

“What spells do you need dragon scales for?” Dean asked. “Something with more rare items in the mix. If we know what she wants, we’ve got a better chance of stopping whatever the hell it is.”

“There’s a few,” Bobby admitted. “But you’re right, anythin’ with easy to get materials is off the list, or else she’d have done it already.”

“Cassie was with me when we took on the demons with the dragon scales,” Gabriel said. “I don’t think I missed anything, but he might’ve seen something.” Then he frowned. “Where _is_ he, anyway?”

“Thought he was here,” Sam mumbled, frowning. “Should’ve beaten us here.”

Dean stared at Raphael. Raphael closed his eyes and a moment later opened them, blue with Grace and very, very worried. “I can’t reach him,” he said.

“Phone,” Gabriel began, but Dean was already dialing. One ring, two rings, three rings, four—

_“This is Castiel’s phone. Well, this is Castiel, but when you call and I don’t answer, this will be what you reach. Which is my phone. Yes, Gabriel, I do know what this is intended for, please stop—”_

The beep felt sinister. “Cas, it’s me,” Dean said, feeling sick. “Call me. Now.”

He’d barely hung up when the phone rang. Raphael’s shoulders sank with relief and Dean fought to breathe. Way too many ups and downs. “Cas, seriously, just answer next time—”

_“Castiel is a bit…indisposed at the moment.”_

Dean froze. “Who is this?”

_“I have a notion that you know already. I’m the demon who’s willing to make a deal.”_

It was Ezekiel who saw it first, on their way to Bobby’s house. He swooped down towards the earth, forcing Castiel to follow him. “Ezekiel,” he called, but Ezekiel pointed ahead.

“I saw something, something like a large group of demons, black clouds swirling,” he said. “Like what you and Gabriel must have seen in the cemetery.”

It made Castiel pause. It was something that was worth the look, at the very least. If they were up to something, they needed to know, and maybe even stop it. They hadn’t been able to prevent the dragon scales from being given to the demons. If they could stop another raid or trade-off, they could get ahead of things.

Castiel pursed his lips. The building ahead of them looked like an old industrial plant of some sort, run down and rusted. He reached out with his Grace and found a trace of something cold and dark. Something that might’ve been a demon, the way it felt slimy and wrong.

There weren’t a lot. This was no different than any other demon run. They could handle this.

Still, their run-in with the four demons elsewhere gave Castiel pause. “Stay close,” he said. “We stay together, and if we need to, we leave.”

Ezekiel gave a firm nod, and Castiel carefully opened the door.

It creaked, hinges old supporting a heavy metal door, and he winced at the sound. Their Graces were bright enough to give them away, but he hoped he could catch the demons in an aggressive mood. If they were willing to fight, they wouldn’t take off immediately. Between the two of them, Castiel was certain they could take them on.

They wandered into the building, his eyes casting everywhere. Dust hung on the shelves and chairs that had been left behind, and there were leaves strewn across the floor. It’d been abandoned for a while: a perfect place for demons to meet up without anyone disturbing them.

Tentatively he cast his Grace out farther to try and find the slimy feeling again. There, towards the back door. It rankled his Grace, left him wishing he could take off and fly to remove the feeling from his wings. It wasn’t really there, but it didn’t change how he felt. Demons never left him feeling anything but unsettled and disgusting.

Well. Except for Meg. Somehow, her darkness felt less slimy.

“I dare you to tell Gabriel or Dean that,” Ezekiel murmured with a hint of a grin.

Castiel rolled his eyes. “You’ve been hanging out with Jo Harvelle for far too long.”

“That rolling of your eyes indicates you’ve been with Gabriel for too long,” Ezekiel countered, but his Grace colored a bit at being called out.

He brushed his wing against Ezekiel’s. “It’s not such a bad thing,” he said softly. “You and Jo.”

“She’s human,” Ezekiel said, and he smiled. “It’s a beautiful thing.”

It only made Castiel wish he could share that sentiment with Tabbris or Ariniel or however many other angels sought to remove humanity from the earth. They were flawed, yes, but the angels were nowhere near perfect, either. He had watched Robert fight for those he loved, Ellen extend an open arm to shelter them, Jo raise her weapon to defend them. All of the hunters had come together to protect them, even stand beside their enemies to do what needed to be done. There was strength in humanity.

Perhaps it was why he admired Meg as much as he did: despite the darkness that he saw in her, there was the same strength and willingness to do what needed to be done that he continued to witness in humanity.

The door opened to an empty hallway. Slowly Castiel entered, Ezekiel right behind him.

The darkness and sliminess reached just beyond them again. He pushed his Grace out more forcefully this time as they continued to a door at the far end of the hallway. The demons had to know they were there, now, so demonstrating a show of power wasn’t a bad way of moving forward.

He still couldn’t get a grip on what was there, but now it felt like it was beside him. Or perhaps behind him. Almost like an echo, and it didn’t make any sense.

Castiel held a hand up. “What’s wrong?” Ezekiel asked, but Castiel immediately moved to quiet him. His ears couldn’t hear anything, but his Grace felt uneasy.

Something was wrong.

He slid the blade into his hand and saw Ezekiel do the same. The burning urge to stand in front of him, to protect the younger angel, made him wonder wryly if this was how Dean felt all the time with Sam. It gave him heightened senses, but it also gave him an anxious feeling in the pit of his stomach.

No wonder Dean wanted to chain Sam to a chair somewhere and put a bell on him.

Slowly he took a step forward. The building seemed dimmer somehow. Sounds were more muted, and it felt like there was something oily all over his wings. He could fly if he had to, but it would be slow and cumbersome.

What had happened here?

The door ahead of them hung slightly ajar, and no sounds came beyond it. Still, he approached it with immense caution. Carefully he pushed the door open, wings coiled, blade ready.

The room was empty. Castiel cautiously moved further inside.

Ahead of him was a table with a chair sitting below a single overhead light. The table was conspicuously as empty as the room around it, but the chair held a single chain wrapped around it. The blood was easy to smell, even from his distance.

As was the sulfur.

“Ezekiel,” he called, eyes on the chair. Someone had tortured a demon here: it had to be Abaddon, per the first vision Sam had shared. She had been here, he could feel it.

Suddenly he realized that Ezekiel hadn’t answered him. He spun around only to find the younger angel gone. Panic stole through his being. “Zeke?” he shouted. His Grace couldn’t find Ezekiel, where had he gone? He’d been right behind Castiel, he’d been _right behind him_ —

“Castiel!”

The shout was the only warning he got. He managed to duck even as he turned to view the two demons before him. He swung out with his blade and cut down one of them, but the other managed to deliver a punch that whipped his head to the side. His arm wound up wrenched to the side, forcing him to drop the blade.

No. Not with Ezekiel possibly hurt.

He called forth his Grace through his palms and got a hand on the demon. The dark cloud screamed as it burned under his Grace until it was a pile of ash. Panting, Castiel looked around. “Ezekiel, where are you?”

“He’s right here.”

Something so sharp hit him that for a moment, he didn’t recognize the blow for what it was. Then the pain sliced through him, burning his Grace upon impact. He coughed and sank to his knees, trying to fight past the pain.

There in front of him was a demon wearing a young woman with red hair. She gazed down at him like she wasn’t concerned about him at all, and in her hands hung Castiel’s own blade.

Slowly Castiel raised his gaze to the woman. “Abaddon,” he spat.

“Oh good, I don’t have to worry about introductions,” she said with a smile. “It always takes so grievously long. Abaddon, Knight of Hell, soon to be Queen of Hell. It’s a long title, but one I’m willing to take on.”

_Raphael, Gabriel, I found Abaddon,_ he prayed, but Abaddon just grinned. Her eyes went straight up, and when he followed her gaze, he found the Enochian and warding sigils on the ceiling. No one’s prayers were going to get anywhere: it was going to be as hard as if the trunk line was down again.

There was no other option, then. Castiel began to surge up but Abaddon merely held up a single finger. “Ah, ah, ah,” she said, as if he were an errant child. “I have something of yours.”

She stepped to the side to let him see. Behind her, held back by three demons, was Ezekiel, a hand wrapped tightly around his mouth.

Fear stole his breath and made him freeze. “I don’t intend on killing you,” Abaddon continued. “But I can make my case with one hostage as well as two. The choice is yours.”

Ezekiel’s eyes were wide and he shook his head as best as he could. Willing to sacrifice himself if it meant being able to destroy Abaddon here and now. It was something that Michael would’ve done, Lucifer or Gabriel or Raphael, in a heartbeat. Giving themselves up for the greater good. Castiel, too, would’ve done much the same.

But in the place that Michael usually stood, a little brother’s life on the line, he did much as he had learned from the Winchesters.

He bowed his head and let his wings settle behind him.

“Good boy,” Abaddon said. “For that, you don’t need to be conscious for this next part.”

Castiel’s head whipped up just as Abaddon’s fist came down. The last thing he heard was Ezekiel crying out his name, and then everything went black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd say "new year, new me" but let's be honest here, angst and cliffhangers were not part of my New Year's resolutions. Not giving those up anytime soon, sorry not sorry.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter's big and with a lot of stuff to go with it, so take the small breather here.

“Try again.”

Gabriel glared at Dean. “I told you, he’s not answering any prayers.”

“Then keep trying until he does.”

Right, like Gabriel hadn’t thought of that. He began to pace in the small space behind Singer’s house.

“How many times have you—”

“Do you really want the answer to that?” Gabriel snapped. He took a deep breath and let it out because it wasn’t his big brother he was mad it, it really wasn’t. Dean was the one he could depend on, always had. His big brother wouldn’t even begrudge him his getting pissy, but it would make Gabriel feel bad, and he was doing that well enough on his own at the moment. Especially since the pissy was to cover the panic of his little brother being in a demon’s clutches. And not just any demon. Abaddon had Castiel and Ezekiel. Abaddon had Cassie and Zeke.

“Hey.”

He glanced up and found Dean watching him with the same patient measure he always got from Michael. “You’re fine,” Dean said. “Cas and Zeke will be fine, too. She wants to trade for them, so she needs them alive. And as hard as it is to say, whatever damage she does won’t be permanent, and Raphael will be able to heal it.”

“So why isn’t he answering a prayer?” Gabriel couldn’t help but point out. He wanted to believe that Cassie was fine, that Abaddon would hold to her word, but at the moment, all he could feel was rising worry.

Dammit, he was responsible for Castiel. He’d undone the reeducation, he’d helped keep Castiel’s Grace from tanking. He’d protected Castiel, he’d taught Castiel, the kid was his little brother and Gabriel should’ve gone with him. At the end of the day, he should’ve gone with Castiel.

Hands clasped the back of his neck and pulled him forward until his forehead met Dean’s. “He’s going to be okay,” Dean said firmly. “They both are. All right?”

“And if he’s not?” Gabriel whispered. “Michael, what if they’re not?”

“Then we’ll barrel through and blast apart the bastards who thought they could take him. Starting with Abaddon.”

Like Michael had done when Lucifer and Gabriel had gone missing. His next breath came easier. As horrible as Asmodeus’s torture had been, there had always been a part of him that had known, _Help is coming, help is coming, I’m not alone, I’m not forgotten._ He’d known that Michael and Raphael would come for them.

“Hey.”

Gabriel turned and found Sam coming down the steps. “Everything okay?” he asked with a frown. “Besides the obvious.”

“We’re not getting any prayers to Cas,” Dean told him. “How are you feeling?”

Sam just sighed. “Head’s still attached. At this point, that’s about the least of my problems. Especially since our look ahead did absolutely no good.”

“Not true,” Gabriel insisted. “Samshine, you saw where she’d be, you saw how many with her.”

“I never saw Cas or Zeke,” Sam reminded him, almost gently, and it made Gabriel want to scream. “Though that doesn’t really mean anything. Abaddon’s focus was on finding where the Men of Letters were hiding out.”

“She told us to meet her on Friday at ten,” Dean said. “By your vision, it was Friday at nine. Which means if we can get there before then, we might have a chance of surprising her.”

It was a solid plan. It had to work. Michael the tactician had pulled through when no one else had seen a way out, and this time would be no different, especially with the information he was getting from Lucifer.

Sam. Dean and Sam, and it’d been a damn long time since he’d had to remind himself of that. _They’re still Michael and Lucifer, they’re still your brothers,_ and as much as it was true, it was also _not_ true. Because at the moment, his brothers had no wings to wrap him up in, no Grace to settle his own.

This time it was Sam who pulled him in. “I look that bad, huh,” Gabriel muttered.

“Just worried,” Sam assured him. “We’ll find him, little one.” He paused, going still against Gabriel, and even before he could ask what was wrong, memories came through, loud and clear enough to be shared.

Oh. _Oh_. “I told you, it wasn’t you,” Gabriel said, and he made sure his arms were wrapped tight around Sam in case his older brother got ideas about backing away. “That name from you doesn’t bother me. Don’t let Metatron take that from you.” _Don’t let Metatron take that from me._

Sam’s breath went out and he tightened his grasp. Good. Gabriel had enough brothers to worry about at the moment, he didn’t need Sam anxiously freaking out on him either. As much as it sometimes helped for Sam to distract him, right then and there, he needed Sam and Dean at their best. He needed everyone at their best.

The door opened and it wasn’t who Gabriel had thought it would be. “Jo,” he greeted. She gave a tight nod but said nothing. Her arms stayed locked around herself, and her soul was dimmed. What wasn’t dim was all but roiling tumultuously.

She’d really fallen hard for Ezekiel, Gabriel suddenly realized. This went beyond simple infatuation: this was worry, this was a driving need to make it better.

This was something that wasn’t really supposed to happen.

As much as Gabriel had teased them, as cute as it honestly was, angels and humans were sort of never meant to be together, not like this. Dad had been beyond furious when angels had descended to Earth and turned their love from one another to humans. The children of those unions had been removed, too powerful to reckon with. It had been one of the harder jobs that Gabriel had done, fighting with beings that were so grown in some ways but just babes in others. He wasn’t looking to do it again.

Then again, Dad wasn’t here anymore to insist on tossing out the step children. He doubted Michael or Lucifer or Raphael would give two craps about it. And he was stepping way ahead to a future that might never happen if they couldn’t even get Ezekiel or Castiel back.

“You all right?” Sam asked her softly.

She shrugged but didn’t make any sort of response. Closer now, Gabriel watched her soul writhing in clear agony, but there was a scar visible now that he hadn’t seen before. A deep one, one that had been buried for a while. A gentle brush of his Grace over it gave him sparks of happiness and a deep, deep loss.

The worst scars were always wrapped around the happiest of memories.

Dean took both of her shoulders in his grasp. “We’ll find them,” he said, quietly but firmly. “I’m not leaving them to Abaddon. We’ve already got a plan.”

“I want in,” Jo said, but it wasn’t with the same fervor that she usually did. It was quiet, deliberate, almost desperate in a way.

Gabriel inhaled sharply. Ah. It sort of made sense now, at least, why she was so lost. “Hey,” he said, waiting until she looked up at him. “It’s not going to be like that. I promise.”

Sam frowned, clearly unaware of what was going on, which, yeah, of course he was, he didn’t have Grace. Gabriel shoved his own hurt down and focused on what he could do: help Jo. “Like what?” she asked, but she wasn’t nearly as confused as Sam or Dean appeared to be.

“Your dad wasn’t your fault,” Gabriel continued. “You get that, right? You were a kid. And what happened wasn’t your fault.”

Sudden pain shot through Sam, startling Gabriel, and then the memory flowed over him. Seriously? As much as Gabriel liked Meg from time to time, wow, that had been beyond cruel. “It wasn’t yours, either,” he said, scowling at Sam. “And I bet it wasn’t entirely John’s, either.”

“Really?” Dean said, raising an eyebrow. “Because that’s exactly what I could see Dad doing, if push came to shove.”

“I don’t blame you,” Jo said, a bit of fire back in her voice. “Either of you. And I sure as hell don’t blame you for being possessed, Sam. Honest. I was worried like hell when I heard from Dean afterwards but not you.”

Dean turned on Sam, eyes wide. “You never called her?”

It would’ve been funny, in any other circumstance, to see Sam’s face flush with embarrassment. This wasn’t really the funny sort of thing though, just Sam still clearly trying to grapple with having been possessed. Another cage he'd been trapped in. Gabriel's fist tightened. “We talked eventually,” Sam finally said, crossing his arms.

It made Jo smile a little, but it faded almost as soon as it’d come. She turned to Gabriel then, arms wrapped around herself again. “You can’t promise that to me. That he’s okay. You just can’t.”

“Jo—”

“You know, when I started hanging out with Zeke, I thought it would be all right.” She kicked at a nearby rock. “His vessel was empty, the soul already moved on. Cancer, I think Zeke said, someone who’d prayed to pass in peace. I thought if it was just an angel, it’d be different. I could…I could get involved. He was an angel, strong and powerful. He wasn’t going to go off and disappear on me, or get hurt.”

Sometimes, Gabriel hated when he was right. “Jo,” he tried again.

She gave a bitter laugh, eyes on her boots. “But he’s even more prone to getting hurt or in danger than any human I could be with. He’s not safe. And he’s going to get killed and I’ll be…”

She swallowed hard and jutted out her chin. “Stupid,” she muttered, and she turned to go back inside.

“No one is safe, Jo.”

She paused at Sam’s voice. Gabriel paused, too, needing someone else to take over, to fix things. All he wanted was to soothe the pain in her soul, to help her the way she’d helped him after Asmodeus. He couldn’t seem to find the words, though.

“No one is ever safe,” Sam continued. “We just need to love them with everything we have while we’re with them.” He huffed a small laugh. “Trust me, it’s far more frightening for Ezekiel to love you than it is the other way around. You won’t be here forever, not like he will.”

There was a dawning realization on Jo’s face, like she’d never considered that. “That won’t stop him from doing what he can to share whatever he can with you,” Dean added. “And you’re not going to be alone, no matter what. We’ll be here if something does happen to him.”

“Which it won’t,” Gabriel felt like interjecting. “Because we’re going to kick Abaddon’s ass and get them back first.” Abaddon was going to taste his blade if she’d hurt Castiel. Actually, she was going to taste it anyway, but still, he’d make it last longer if she’d harmed a hair on his head.

Jo straightened her back and tossed her hair over her shoulder. “Fucking right we are.”

“Atta girl,” Dean said warmly.

Sam rolled his eyes but he smiled, too, and Gabriel took a breath. Good. Now for Dean to break the news that he could read a mile away in his big brother’s thoughts. _Go ahead, Dean-o. Can’t wait to see how that rolls over._

“Shut up,” Dean muttered under his breath. Louder he said, “With the whole of us, we should be fine, but someone’s going to have to wait here in case Abaddon decides to strike at Naomi. So—”

“Don’t even think about it,” Sam said, voice calm, but his eyes were narrowed. “I’m going with you.”

“She wants you,” Dean said, and his big brother was doing a decently good job of keeping his breathing even, but Gabriel could see the agitation and anger building all the same. “What part of keeping you safe do you not understand? You’ve put yourself into danger more times in the past few days than I can count and I’d like for once to actually _not_ have you in mortal peril.”

Jo wrinkled her nose. “I can’t believe you just said ‘mortal peril’.”

“It’s the righteous archangel part of him,” Gabriel stage-whispered. Dean didn’t even look, just reached out and smacked him upside the back of his head, and Gabriel stupidly felt better. If nothing else, his nonsense was still enough to help settle his siblings. Sam didn’t look as pissed off, and Dean clearly had better control over his emotions now that he’d relayed some of his frustration through his hand to Gabriel’s head.

Still, Sam was known for a lot of things, including stubbornness. “Leaving me here isn’t the answer, Dean. I know that’s what you want—”

“And history continues to prove me right.”

“—but I need to go with you. I know what she’s got planned.”

“You already told us,” Dean pointed out.

Wrong thing to say but Gabriel sort of felt like Dean knew that. At least, Gabriel hoped he wasn’t that stupid. “And you leave me here on my own for, what, Abaddon to ambush me and Naomi?” Sam said, raising an eyebrow. Point for Sam.

“And some of the younger angels,” Dean said, matching Sam’s eyebrow. “I wouldn’t leave you here by yourself.” Ooh, point for Dean-o, calling Sam’s bluff.

Unfortunately for Dean, Gabriel already knew how this was going to end. Because Gabriel had spent a very, _very_ long time with Sam in one capacity or another, as either Sam or Lucifer, and he knew what his big brother was going to say. Starting with the bit lip and the big eyes.

Michael had never been able to say no to Lucifer, and Dean wasn’t particularly good at it either.

“You told me that we’d go together,” Sam said quietly. Dean shut his eyes. “No matter what, you and me, right?”

“She’s after _you_ , Luce,” Dean exclaimed. “You’re what she wants. I’m not going to take you to her and offer you up on a silver platter.”

“Together means with each other,” Sam insisted.

Dean said nothing. Gabriel found himself surprised a little, actually, because it wasn’t like Dean to hold back. Michael had never been shy of telling Lucifer what he felt. Similar thoughts were running through Dean’s head, tagged by the phrase _Michael’s will_.

Oh. That, Gabriel could clear up.

“Mikey, I don’t think Naomi meant your general big brothering of Lucifer,” Gabriel said. Dean shot him a half-hearted glare. “This isn’t your will being imposed on Sam.”

Sam startled. “That’s what you think? Dean—”

“I can’t protect you without my Grace,” Dean confessed. “But this way, this might be the best way to keep you safe from Abaddon. I’m not going to let her do what Asmodeus did to you both. I’m not going to give her the chance.”

“You don’t need Grace.”

Jo moved back into the small circle they’d formed, crossing her arms. “You’re a hunter, and you’re a damn good one. We can keep each other safe. You know Sam’s the best hunter here. Y’know, besides me.”

Sam’s lips turned up. “Where’s Dean rank?” Gabriel couldn’t help but ask.

“Fourth,” Jo said immediately. “After my mom.”

“Ouch, thanks,” Dean muttered, but he’d relaxed a little.

Jo just rolled her eyes. “Seriously, though. You kept him safe for all these years against a host of demons and monsters and spirits and who even knows what else. He’s safer with you and you know it. And they’ll have less of a reason to come here for your injured angels if we’re all there.”

_Remind me not to put Jo in a corner,_ Gabriel sent to Raphael, pride running through him. She’d make a hell of a tactician.

The response was instantaneous. He’d known his big brother couldn’t resist listening in. _She’s extremely intelligent, but why would I place her in a corner?_

Gabriel just huffed a laugh. _I’ve got a movie for you to watch at some point. Remind me later._

Sam had moved forward, still biting his lip. “If you want me to stay, then I’ll stay,” he said softly. “And not because of your will or whatever. I don’t give two shits about that.”

“You never have,” Dean grumbled, but there was clear relief in his tone, too.

“I’ll only stay if you honestly think it’s the safest thing for me and the others.” Sam paused. “But I still think that the real answer there is to be with you. You’ll keep me safe. And I’ll keep you safe, too. You and Gabe and Raph.”

Then, just to sink his point home, Sam added, “But if something happened to one of you and I wasn’t there to help…Dean, I don’t know if I could forgive myself.”

_Way to hammer that in,_ Gabriel thought, but it made his point nicely. Because it was a fact: without their Graces, they were two humans, just as able as the other. It’d have been different if Dean had had his Grace and not Sam, or the other way around. But in this instance, it was just two Winchester brothers against the evils of the world.

“I’ll keep you both safe,” Gabriel said. He felt his wings flare out, as if ready to do just that, and he gave them a small grin. “While I’m rescuing Castiel and Ezekiel.”

“Single-handedly?” Jo asked with a look.

His grin grew. “Of course. How else?”

Dean snorted a helpless laugh, the kind one made with a heaping dose of resignation. “Don’t make me regret this,” he warned, eyes on Sam.

Sam began to respond and Gabriel jumped in. “Don’t say it. Don’t even keep _thinking_ it. Because you’re going to jinx the fuck out of us.”

“I wasn’t going to do anything,” Sam protested, but his cheeks went red.

“You were too,” Gabriel accused. “I could hear it rumbling around in your head.”

_Can you hear this rumbling around, too?_

Ooh, and with a visual as well. “That’s not nice to do to your little brother,” Gabriel said with a mock pout. Jo’s lips were turned up in a real smile for the first time since she’d come outside. “I would never extend such a vulgar gesture to you.”

“Pretty sure you invented it,” Sam said.

_Does it look like this?_

And from the other big brother, too. “You both suck,” Gabriel grumbled as he headed inside. The three souls behind him were far lighter now, Jo full of hope, Sam full of determination, and Dean…

Well. Not as resigned, but almost desperate in his determination that Sam stay safe, that Gabriel and Raphael stay safe, that Castiel and Ezekiel be all right.

“Aw Michael,” he mumbled. Dean was going to end up with a complex by the time it was all said and done. Too many siblings to worry about now, and Gabriel hadn’t anticipated it stretching Dean so thin. Yet he could feel it, see it, in his thoughts and his soul. If it had hit the soul and affected it so much, it was time to pay attention.

_Raphael, we need to keep an eye on Dean,_ Gabriel prayed. _His big brother tendency is starting to get out of control._

_I can feel it,_ Raphael sent back. _I’ll see if I can’t organize a break of sorts for him before we need to leave. I could use your help in here, however._

_What’s wrong?_

The reply was almost sheepish and very irritated. _Rufus and Robert insist on taking vehicles. I’m attempting to dissuade them._

If it wasn’t one big brother, it was another. _I’m coming,_ Gabriel promised. His other two big brothers were even now talking with Jo in quiet tones, and when Dean brought her in for an embrace that she readily returned, Gabriel let out the breath he’d been holding. She’d be all right. So would they.

He’d give every single feather from his wings before he saw them come to harm.

Not once did he see, as he went back inside, the small smiles from Dean and Sam as they watched him go with a far steadier Grace than he’d had before. Nor did he see the shadow at the window, eventually moving away to sit and think more about the men who were his grandsons.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the chapter I think y'all have been waiting for. Subsequently, it's a massive one.
> 
> Minor character deaths.
> 
> Feel free to keep up with me at jmrhineheart.wordpress.com

It felt a lot like being penned in. Waiting to be attacked. Worse was that he knew it was coming and he couldn’t stop it.

Still, when Raphael and Gabriel both approached him, Dean just sighed and set the book aside. He hadn’t actually been reading it, not really, since it had little to nothing to do with their current predicament. Bobby had given it to him to keep him out of the way; he knew when he was being given busy work. Or, well, work to keep him busy and not thinking about Castiel and Ezekiel. Or Jo being heartbroken. Or Sam being hunted by Heaven and Hell, Gabriel and Raphael fighting off angels in Heaven, Anael being hurt—

“Yeah, okay, that’s enough,” Gabriel said. He snapped his fingers and the book was replaced by a ridiculously pink margarita. “Time for a break, big bro.”

“Last thing I need is a break,” Dean said, raising an eyebrow. Though the drink actually smelled really good. “But thanks for the thought.”

Raphael shook his head at Gabriel but turned serious upon turning back to Dean. “As saccharine as Gabriel’s display of concern is—”

“You could just say it’s a sweet gesture.”

“—there’s a reason for it. And he’s right. You need a break. Bobby can see it. Ellen and Jo can see it. Sam can certainly see it.”

“He put you up to this?” Dean asked warily. Sam had been conspicuously absent ever since he’d come back inside. It had set Dean’s nerves off, making him pace, until Bobby had suddenly given him a book to look over—

Oh. Guess Bobby had figured it out, all right.

He got a snort from Gabriel. “Uh, of course he did. But lucky for you, we were already planning to get you to ease off. Great minds and all that.”

“Cas is in Abaddon’s hands,” Dean said. He hated being harsh with the truth, but there was too much going on for him to think about taking a break. Gabriel flinched slightly, making him feel even more like a heel. It couldn’t be helped, though. “So is Ezekiel. And you want me to take a cat-nap?”

“I want you to stop thinking like Dean and Michael and start thinking like me,” Raphael said firmly. “If there’s anything that I have learned, it’s to slow down. Rest. Heal. You’re always so focused on the rest of us that you take no time for _you_. Given what we’re going to be up against, it will leave you drained and unable to react if something goes amiss.”

“ _When_ something goes amiss,” Gabriel pointed out. A moment later, his hair flew forward with what was undoubtedly a well-placed wing slap from Raphael. It made Dean’s lips twitch, just a little.

Still, it felt…wrong. To just shut down, stop worrying, to focus on himself. What good would he be to them? How could he keep them safe? How could he keep Sam safe that way?

Gabriel crouched down in front of his chair, looking serious for the first time since they’d wandered over. “You want to know the truth?” he said quietly. “You’re scaring the shit out of us. You’re running yourself into the ground with your big brother syndrome. And there’s honestly not much we can do about it, y’know? We’re sort of the problem, not the solution.”

“Because you all matter to me,” Dean told him. This would be a hell of a lot easier to explain with his Grace, which of course he was lacking. He gritted his teeth. “If I can’t…if you…fuck it,” he muttered, and he let his thoughts do the talking, along with his emotions. Let them read all of his anxiousness, his worry, and the constant thread of _in danger in danger in danger_ that had been running through him since Metatron had taken Lucifer. Since Asmodeus had taken Gabriel and Lucifer. Since Zachariah had taken Sam. It had been constant, unending, ever since the Cage had opened in the chapel floor, and without his Grace…

He was human. And he was no use to them without being Michael.

Raphael let out a harsh exhale. “You _are_ Michael, you will never stop being him. You never have. Even as a mere human child, you reached for your little brother to protect him. That is innately a part of you and always will be. I don’t want that turned off forever. I just want you to turn it down for a little bit.”

He began to speak again, then stopped, smiling. “Sam’s apparently been eavesdropping and would like you to, um, ‘Accept what they have to say or I’ll come pound it into you. Jerk.’”

Even just hearing it was from Sam was enough to make him relax a little more back into his chair. “As long as we’re ready,” he said, but Gabriel was already shifting the margarita into his hand, well, what used to have been a margarita and was now something that smelled decidedly like hot chocolate. “I better not be drinking a book,” he warned.

“Nah, it’s back in Singer’s supply of never-ending papercuts waiting to happen.” Gabriel rested a hand on his shoulder and gave a genuine smile. “I’m worried like hell about Cassie, don’t get me wrong. But I’m worried about you, too. So rest up. We don’t have to be anywhere until tonight. We’ve got hours between us and our surprising Abaddon.”

“Sam is with Jo,” Raphael cut in smoothly. “Safe in the library and working alongside Rufus and Sidria. Robert is downstairs with Anael and Naomi, keeping an eye on Henry. For once, let us take care of you.”

There wasn’t much Dean could say to argue with them when they were so clearly worried about him. It was like the world’s worst catch-22: if they were worried, then he worried. But if it was him worrying them, then he could stop that, but only if he stopped worrying.

_You make my head hurt._

“I’m supposed to,” Dean told Gabriel, whose nose was wrinkled up in disgust. “It’s my job.”

“From which you’re taking a break so we can save Castiel and Ezekiel,” Raphael said firmly. “Take a nap. Stare at the walls. I don’t particularly care, but you’re taking a break. Rest is crucial.”

Fair enough. Still, there was one thing he wanted to say. “You do, you know.”

Raphael and Gabriel both paused. “Do…?”

“Take care of me,” Dean said. He gave them both a small smile. “You always have.”

He was left with the hot chocolate and a warmth he was all too familiar with. He missed having his own wings. He missed them like a limb, actually.

From the other room, there was a huff of laughter that was all Sam, and even some giggling that sounded like Jo and Sidria. Rufus’s dry tone came through not long after and then there were small chuckles. It felt like a balm to his soul.

Safe. Well. Most of them.

_We’re coming for you, Cas,_ he prayed. _I promise._

He took a sip of the hot chocolate and forced himself to try and settle. They’d been going on full throttle for too long. As much as he hated to do it, they were right. He needed to rest.

He was going to need everything he had to take on Abaddon later. Because the beings he loved more than himself were counting on him.

At exactly 8:15pm, they all gathered outside. “I’m just saying,” Rufus tried again, and Gabriel rolled his eyes.

“ _No_. We’re not driving there. I’m bringing exactly _one_ vehicle for emergency removal of people and additional weapons, and I’m setting it down far enough away that she won’t see it. From what Sam showed me, it’s pretty empty out there.”

“It’s Kansas,” Jo said, looking nonplussed. “What did you expect, soaring mountains?”

“She’s a little touchy,” Dean muttered. Not that Sam could blame him, or even her. They were all a little on edge. Their rest earlier had been necessary, but it didn’t mean that they were suddenly calm and zen. On the contrary: Sam felt more amped than he had in a while, adrenaline rush ready to go. Because one way or another, they were bringing Castiel and Ezekiel home safe and sound, and Abaddon was getting torched.

For his part, Dean looked better, clear-eyed and bouncing on the balls of his feet. Yet there was peace in his eyes of a sort too, the kind that came after years and years of formulating plans and tactical solutions. This was Michael’s influence mixed with Dean’s rowdy enthusiasm to create the being that was his big brother.

Sam took a breath in. They could do this.

“Ready?” Raphael asked. He stood in Toni’s form, a deference to keeping Evangeline safe, hands steady and sure. Yet his eyes blazed with a fiery blue, ready to attack. Gabriel didn’t look much better, but his energy was all sly fury, the kind that could sneak up on someone and unleash righteous wrath in an instant. A trickster god and archangel perfectly wrapped up in one.

Dean glanced at him. Sam’s eyes turned to roam over their group before seeing their determined faces shining back at him. As ready as they could be, at any rate. “We all know what to do?” he couldn’t help but ask.

Tight nods met him. Henry’s face held the same resolute, locked-jaw expression that Sam saw so often on Dean’s face, on his own. Whatever happened, he was ready to deal with it. A Winchester to the end.

“Hold on,” Gabriel warned, and then they weren’t in Bobby’s yard anymore. The air felt cold, and the wind cut through them. Sam couldn’t repress the shiver.

The scene was too familiar. The dark road, the fields, the few bushes, the few trees. This was the place, it had to be.

There, with a few flashlights, the demons he’d seen in the vision. None of them looked concerned, or even looked their way or towards where Raphael and Gabriel had gone to the other side. Two smaller groups, perfect for converging on a group of demons.

There was also no sight of Castiel or Ezekiel anywhere to be seen.

Bobby and Jo moved forward but Sam threw his arm out. To a hunter, this had to feel tactically right. It was primed and ready for a surprise attack.

This was no ordinary demon, though. And despite having the advantage, something felt…off.

“Sam,” Bobby whispered, but Dean got ahead of him.

“What’s wrong?”

Nothing he could say without sounding weird. They had to move forward, and Gabriel and Raphael were waiting on the other side with Ellen and Rufus, but it wasn’t leaving Sam with a feeling of triumph like he’d hoped. Something was wrong.

“Where’s Cas and Zeke?” Sam whispered. “We’re not that early, they should be here.”

“We take her, we’ll find out,” Jo hissed, but surprisingly, Henry took his side.

“No, Sam’s right. She’s got no reason to tell us what we want because she knows we want her dead. We need to know where they are first.”

Sam glanced at Dean. “Trust me?” he asked quietly.

“You’re an idiot,” Dean said immediately. _I’ve got you, little brother._

Lips turning up, Sam shot a silent prayer to the angels on the other side of the clearing. _Something’s wrong. Are Castiel and Ezekiel here?_

After a moment, Gabriel shot a terse, _No_ , across to him. “Shit,” Sam muttered. “Keep Henry hidden.” Squaring his shoulders, he stepped forward.

Even as Sam headed forward, Dean suddenly appeared by his side. “Thought you trusted me,” Sam said, raising an eyebrow.

“You, I trust,” Dean agreed. “Her, not so much.”

Fair enough. They emerged together from the shadows, immediately catching the attention of the demons. “We’re just here to talk,” Dean said, holding his hands up when they immediately started towards them. “Where’s Abaddon?”

“Here.”

The demons parted to let the young woman from Sam’s visions through. She was a deadly sort of beautiful, lips turned up in a sharp grin. She didn’t stalk forward so much as sway towards the nearby tree. She had the same level of power as Asmodeus did and she knew it. This wasn’t going to be easy.

“You’re missing two angels,” Sam called to her.

Abaddon raised one perfectly shaped eyebrow. “You’re missing a man out of time.”

“He’s here,” Dean said, letting his shoulders roll back. He didn’t have a lick of Grace on him but he stood like he did, every inch of Michael there to show. Sam felt himself stand taller in response, ready to back his brother in an instant. Michael and Lucifer, side by side, united.

The demons slowly drew back, fear evident. Abaddon didn’t seem to notice. “You’re also early,” she said, settling her weight on one hip. The dress was straight out of the 1950s and Sam knew it wasn’t going to hinder her at all if it came down to a fight. Neither were the heels she kicked out in front of her. “A girl needs time to properly prepare for her date, you know.”

“Yeah, well, what can we say?” Sam said. “We got here quick.”

“That’s what happens when you travel angel express.”

Abaddon paused, smile falling, when Gabriel and Raphael came up behind him. “You were supposed to take the other side,” Dean muttered under his breath.

“You two came out on this side,” Gabriel muttered back. “And there’s no demons over there anymore. Shut up.”

Who knew how many they’d cut through in silence. Sam forced himself to try and relax. They had the upper hand here. They did.

So why did it feel like they didn’t?

“Archangels at that,” Abaddon said, looking less and less enthused the more she looked at them. “To what do I owe the pleasure? I’m just here for an exchange.”

“That involves two of our brothers,” Raphael said, voice ringing across the small space. The demons cringed away, and Abaddon instantly snapped her fingers. They froze, torn between wrathful archangels and a pissed-off leader. Sam almost felt sorry for them.

Almost.

One of the demons suddenly pulled out a gun. A shot rang out, and the demon dropped, dead. Abaddon didn’t look as displeased at the demon’s death as she did when Bobby led the others out to join their growing group. They outnumbered the demons easily now, but it didn’t make it an easy fight. Sam stole a glance behind him and found Henry hidden behind Anael and Rufus. Good.

“I’m suddenly not feeling as charitable,” Abaddon said. “You killed one of my favorites. What do they say these days? Not cool.”

“You called for us,” Dean said, glaring at her. “We’re here.”

“I asked for just the two Winchesters and my prize,” Abaddon said, glaring back. “Not a zoo.”

Sam gave her a tight grin. “Yeah, well, that’s what you get for taking hostages. Hand them over.”

“And again, I believe there was a trade in order.” She crossed her arms and narrowed her gaze. “Where’s Henry?”

_Stay back stay back stay back,_ Sam couldn’t help but think. “Where’s the two angels?” Gabriel asked angrily. “Hard to trade when we’re the only side giving.”

“Oh, I’ll make a trade,” Abaddon said, and she snapped her fingers. “Family for family.”

From behind the cluster of bushes, three demons emerged, hauling something between them. No, not something, someones, and Sam felt his stomach fall to the ground the instant the two bloody figures were pulled into view. “ _Castiel,_ ” Gabriel cried out, and Jo made an aborted move forward when she saw Ezekiel. The two angels were a mess, but Castiel had clearly fared worse than Ezekiel, if the black eye and the way he limped were any indication.

Sam barely had a minute to throw his arms out before Gabriel and Dean both surged forward. “D’n, no,” Castiel managed to get out through his swollen lips. “We’re—”

“Silence,” Abaddon bellowed, and the demons yanked Castiel back, making him gasp in pain. He stumbled, nearly falling, and his eyes flashed with Grace. Not an angry flash, a flickering flash. Sam froze. That wasn’t just physical damage, that was Grace damage. That was damage that would kill him.

He wasn’t the only one who saw. In an instant Raphael and Gabriel barreled forward, their Graces both bright and angry in their eyes. Abaddon didn’t hesitate, just pointed her finger to the ground, and Sam saw it too late.

“ _No_!”

A fire flared up, a tight circle around both archangels. Gabriel nearly went straight into the flames and would’ve if Raphael hadn’t caught hold of him and dragged him back. Holy oil. A perfect trap.

Abaddon’s lips stretched into a satisfied smile, and Sam’s heart pounded in his chest. She wasn’t the least bit surprised to see them all; she’d known it’d be more than Sam and Dean. She’d known they’d all come. Which meant they were outgunned, _again_.

Panic stole the breath from his lungs but he forced it down as best as he could do. “Anael, Sidria, get everyone the hell out of here,” he barked behind him, but Abaddon just lifted her other hand to the tree beside her and—

“No, stop!” Sam shouted an instant later. Abaddon paused, hand over the banishing sigil. For a long, tense moment, Sam couldn’t breathe. After a long moment of staring at them, she pulled her hand back and smiled.

“You _can_ learn,” she all but purred. “Good boy. Though I do wonder what it would do to two angels already confined in holy oil. Would it keep them? Would it send them flying through the flames? A girl’s got questions and I’d like answers.”

“You _bitch_ ,” Dean seethed, stepping forward, even as Sam tried to pull him back. “Let go!”

“No! Dean, stop!”

“Michael, don’t,” Raphael yelled, and Abaddon’s eyebrows shot to the sky.

“Michael, as in Michael the archangel?”

Dean finally stopped pulling at Sam as Abaddon regarded them in a new light. Castiel tried to buck his way forward, to clearly catch her attention, but the demon holding him only landed a punch to his jaw, sending him down. “Cassie,” Gabriel began helplessly, but Abaddon just moved forward, heels clicking ominously on the pavement. Her eyes stayed pinned on Dean, and Sam realized she didn’t even care about Castiel and Ezekiel. They were bartering chips, but bartering chips only mattered when you needed bargaining power.

And Abaddon had just realized she had the whole damn collection right in front of her.

“More interesting by the minute,” she said. “Because if you’re Michael, then…” Her eyes moved deliberately from Dean to Sam. “Hello, Lucifer,” she murmured, looking very pleased with herself.

Dean stepped directly in front of Sam. “Dean—”

“Bobby, get him out of here,” Dean ordered.

“Bobby, stay right where you are,” Sam countered.

There was a muted, “The hell am I, the family dog?” from behind them, the sarcasm doing nothing to hide the real anger and fear in Bobby’s voice. They were in a bad place and he knew it. They all knew it.

“No wonder I couldn’t find you,” Abaddon mused. “You didn’t have any Grace to search for. Very clever. But stupid on your part, because humans die a _lot_ easier than angels do.” She raised her hand and it began to glow.

“No, wait, stop.”

Sam froze. No. _No._

But there was his grandfather, pushing past Ellen. “Henry—”

“You wanted me,” Henry said, and he strode forward in front of Dean and Sam. “You keep getting distracted by all the new shiny toys you want, and honestly, that’s just sloppy work. I thought it was me you were after.”

“It was,” Abaddon said with a casual shrug. “But you denied a girl the dance she wanted and, well, it’s just downright ungentlemanly of you. I’ve moved on.”

Henry didn’t even pause. “If you let them go, all of them, I’ll tell you where my key is, the one that I hid. Along with anything else you want to know.”

Abaddon froze. “Henry,” Dean hissed, but Henry just squared his shoulders.

“You know that’s what you really want. There’s something in that bunker that you want, and you could spend years and years trying to find all the hidden compartments, all the secret safes. And you still might not find what you want. Josie didn’t know where it was or even where the key was to get in, or else you’d be there and not here.” He spread his arms out to the side. “You need me,” he said, voice low and dangerous. “So let them go and have me.”

For a long minute, no one moved. Abaddon suddenly raised her hand, making Sam tense, only to wave her hand forward. The demons shoved Ezekiel ahead of them and dragged Castiel to his feet. “Well?” Abaddon said, raising her eyebrows.

Henry finally glanced back at them, and he gave a small smile. “Get out of here, both of you,” he said quietly. “Take your brother and run.”

Then he marched forward.

“No,” Sam whispered, and this time it was Dean who held him back. “Dean, we can’t—”

“Sid, Anael, get them to the car,” Dean ordered again, and Sam didn’t bother looking back to see if they’d gone yet with the others. Between the both of them, they could carry the four humans out of danger for a little bit. It’d have to be enough.

It wasn’t going to save Henry, who even now was reaching Ezekiel and Castiel. “Go,” he urged the two angels, and Ezekiel pursed his lips but kept moving forward, Castiel leaning heavily against him. The demons stood, ready to grab Henry.

It happened in an instant. Abaddon was suddenly there, and Sam watched her fist plunge straight through Henry’s middle and burst out through his back. “Henry!” Dean shouted, running forward on instinct.

Abaddon didn’t even hesitate, just waved her free hand, and Dean went flying off to the side. His head hit a nearby rock with a sickening _crack_ and then he fell to the ground, blood already pooling in the dirt beneath him.

Sam stared, unable to breathe. His heart felt like it was going to crack his ribs in two, and he could barely hear over the ringing in his ears. Gabriel and Raphael were shouting, it sounded like, and Bobby was calling Dean’s name, and he could see people racing over to Dean, putting themselves in the line of fire, and there was nothing Sam could do.

Nothing. His family, captured, tortured, hurt, _dead_. And he could do _nothing_.

“Now that I have your attention, Lucifer, let’s talk business,” Abaddon said, all nonchalantly. “Or is it Sam Winchester?” Her voice still sounded tinny, though, far away, and Sam realized there was something hot running through him. Hot and angry and helpless and _done_. It spread through his very being, hitting every vein, and the world was getting brighter and brighter. A rumbling sound hit the air and he could hear songs, hear Gabriel and Raphael louder than before, along with a whole symphony of voices.

He didn’t feel the heat racing through his back and spreading out into six magnificent wings. He didn’t see the power glowing red and white in his eyes, or the stunned faces of those around him. The only thing he had eyes for was Abaddon standing before him, looking far less sure of herself than she had been before, Henry crumpled on the ground beside her.

The only thing that he cared about was his family, safe and sound.

And Lucifer stepped forward.

When Dean came to, it was to an earthquake.

There was one going through his head, something sticky and wet on his skin that he was all too familiar with, but there was also one making the ground beneath him shake. Beside him and above him were Bobby and Ellen, with Anael standing guard in front of them. So much for listening to Michael’s will.

None of them were looking at him, he realized. No, they were all staring at a huge ball of light that had now swallowed the entire clearing. It was growing bigger and brighter and in the center was Sam.

He’d seen that light before. In a warehouse, months ago, and Dean’s eyes widened. It couldn’t be. It _couldn’t_.

But it was, because the flare of light around his little brother was so bright, brighter than it had ever been before, and it was stunning and terrifying and beautiful, and Dean’s eyes filled just looking at it.

He’d done it. Somehow, he’d done it.

Abaddon stared as well, eyes wide in fear. The demons took off and fled behind her, and she didn’t even seem to realize it. “It’s you,” she breathed, terror in every part of her voice. She took an involuntary step backwards. “I, I thought you were human, I didn’t know—"

“You made several mistakes,” Sam, _Lucifer_ said, voice ringing in the landscape around them. “One, you attacked my family. Two, you tortured my siblings. But the biggest mistake you made was that you hurt _my brother_.”

Six wings swung out, sending Abaddon stumbling backward in the gust. The flames surrounding Raphael and Gabriel disappeared in an instant. They didn’t get a chance to join the fight, to run to help, to do anything, because Lucifer was already there. His blade slid into his hand and Dean watched as he stepped into a familiar stance. Then Lucifer took off, _flew_ , right into Abaddon’s face a moment later.

Abaddon shrieked and pulled out a nasty curved blade, swinging wildly, but Lucifer was ready for her and dodged the blow a moment later, only to strike out with one of his own. It caught her above the clavicle, then below a knee, then straight through an elbow. Wherever she moved, he was there, and three times faster.

He was like a body of light, flashing here and there, and Dean could only stand and stare. This was more than just Lucifer, this was—

This was Heylel, at his brightest, with Michael as his only equal. This was his little brother, shining in a way that he hadn’t in millennia. His wings were bright, beautiful, and pure. Not a single smudge of darkness coated any part of them.

Dean figured it could be forgiven if his eyes burned. Because this was Heylel as he’d been. This was Lucifer, healed, and it was like a balm on Dean’s soul.

Raphael was suddenly there with Gabriel, blocking Dean’s sight. “Raph,” he said, or tried to, and pain finally registered.

“Hold on,” Raphael murmured. “Hold on, brother, I’m here.” He rested his hand on top of Dean’s head and the pain vanished. “Gabriel, get Castiel and Ezekiel,” he said over his shoulder, but Gabriel was already taking off.

A scream resounded through the clearing, catching Dean’s attention. Abaddon was on her knees, blood flowing from her middle. A matching wound to the one she’d given Henry. Above her stood Heylel, wings wide and angry, righteous wrath pouring out of every inch of him. “Lucifer, wait,” she choked, but Heylel only raised his blade towards her.

“You are a blight on the earth, Abaddon. One I intend to purge.”

“Takes one to know one,” she muttered, then began to laugh. “Go ahead, then. But I know you won’t.”

Heylel didn’t move, but he did speak. “You think I’m like you, somehow, that I’m a Fallen angel and on your side? You’re delusional.” The scowl was all Sam. “Whatever you had planned ends right here, right now.”

“It wasn’t just my plan, you asshole,” she snapped. “I have friends in high places, too.”

That definitely cemented it: she’d been working with Tabbris, maybe even Metatron. “Go ahead, kill me,” she said with a smug grin. “But what we’ve started? Baby, you can’t stop it. And in the end, everyone you love is going to die.”

With a solid swing Heylel’s blade sank into her head. Abaddon lit up with an ugly glare that made Dean’s eyes hurt enough to make him turn away. When he could see again, her body was already on the ground, dead.

Heylel turned towards him then, and the relief on his face was all Sam’s. “Dean?”

“He’s all right,” Raphael assured him. “Just a scratch.”

“That’s not,” Rufus said quietly. Dean glanced beyond Heylel to where Henry’s body laid on the ground. Shivering.

His eyes widened. Henry was still alive.

He shoved himself to his feet and took off running. Heylel beat him there and knelt down, eyes creased with pain. “Henry,” he began.

Henry’s face was white, lips painted red with blood, hands fruitlessly resting over his middle. “Don’t,” he managed to get out. “Don’t, don’t heal me.”

Heylel froze. “No one heal me,” Henry added, and he gave an almost gentle smile. “I don’t know much about…about time travel, but if your father grows up without me, then I’m not meant to go home, am I.”

“No,” Gabriel said softly from behind them. Beside him were Castiel and Ezekiel, looking far better than they had before Dean had clocked out for a bit. “No, you weren’t. I’m sorry.”

Henry shut his eyes and focused on breathing. “I’m sorry,” Heylel said, but it was all Sam now, no more righteous archangel but heartbroken little brother. “I’m so sorry.”

“Not your fault,” Henry said, shaking his head. “This was Abaddon’s doing.” He opened his eyes and Dean could see him fading. “At least…at least I know, now. My boy’s boys.”

He reached out a trembling hand and Dean took hold of one side, Sam the other. “My grandsons,” Henry choked out, smile wide and bloody. “Both strong, _good_ men. I couldn’t have asked for, for better heirs.”

Then he turned his hand over. There, in the bloody palm, was a wooden box. “This is the key to, to all the knowledge we have. Coordinates are in m-my journal, in my pocket. S’not far from here.”

Slowly Dean took the box. “Take care of each other,” Henry murmured. “Both. Both of you.” He reached up towards Sam and stared in almost awe. “So bright,” he murmured. “You’re so bright. My grandson.”

Slowly his eyes closed. His breath came in, went out, and then stilled.

Sam let out a shaky breath beside Dean. He didn’t hesitate, just reached out and pulled Sam in, nowhere close to surprised when Sam clutched back with all he had.

“I can take them.”

Dean turned to where Ezekiel stood. He gave a small smile. “I would be honored to take their souls onward,” he said again.

“Don’t go alone,” Dean said immediately. “Raph—”

“I’ve got it,” Sam said, standing. He pulled Dean to his feet with a single tug. “I’d like to stretch my wings. And…and see them to Heaven.”

The underlying, _I need to know if I can still get in_ , was something that Dean heard loud and clear. It still made him antsy because it wasn’t just Abaddon who’d been gunning for Lucifer, but he couldn’t deny his brother the chance to use his wings and visit the home he’d been denied so long. “Go for it,” he said. “We’ll get the coordinates and take care of the bodies. Give them a hunter’s burial.”

He couldn’t help the smile, though, and it must’ve been as wide as it felt, because Sam frowned at him in confusion. “Dean?”

“You did it,” he whispered. “Heylel, you _did it_.”

A flush spread across his little brother’s face, but there was a smile with it. “I think Lucifer works just fine.”

“He’s right, Samshine,” Gabriel said, and he sounded as if he were in awe. “That wasn’t just Lucifer levels of bright. And your wings are clear.”

Sam blinked and spun around, reminding Dean of a dog trying to look at its tail. He snorted, unable to help himself, and then he gathered Sam up in his arms just because he could. Somehow, his little brother had his Grace back.

“Not a patch of darkness anywhere on you,” Dean murmured. “I told you.” Hands tightened against his back, and he could’ve sworn he felt the brush of wings too. Wings that were now vibrant and bright and _clear_.

Pulling back, he watched Sam’s eyes go red with unshed tears. “Take them to Heaven,” Dean said. “Both of you, watch your backs.”

“We’ll be back,” Sam promised, and in a flash he was gone. Ezekiel paused for just a moment, glancing beyond Dean, smiled, and then he too was gone. Yeah, there was Jo, smiling at where Ezekiel had been, looking relieved and over the moon.

For a long moment, Dean just stood and felt his own relief wash over him. His little brother, in one piece. Whole and healed. He couldn’t have asked for more than that.

“He did it,” Raphael murmured. “He really did it.”

“That was a light show,” Rufus said. When Dean glanced over, the hunter seemed surprised. “I mean, I saw Sidria’s power but—”

“Nothing compares to Lucifer’s,” Gabriel said. “Trust me. We all know it. He’s the brightest of the bunch.” He didn’t look disappointed with it: he looked pleased and proud. “That’s my big brother.”

“It doesn’t get old,” Ellen agreed. Her eyes went to Dean, the smile fading slightly. “You’re all right?”

“Thanks to Raph, yeah,” Dean said. “Things got dicey for a minute.”

“And quickly,” Raphael agreed, mouth turned down. “Abaddon knew that once there were angels caught that other angels would come for them. I don’t think she anticipated which ones, though.”

Bobby snorted. “Not the angels she was workin’ with, that much is for sure.”

No, and that was troublesome all on its own. Who knew if it had been Tabbris? It could’ve been Metatron himself.

_But what we’ve started? Baby, you can’t stop it. And in the end, everyone you love is going to die._

Not I, we.

Dean glanced down at the two bodies. Their souls were someplace better now; time to get them buried or burned. One thing at a time.

Even though Henry hurt to look at, it still couldn’t take away from his pure joy of Lucifer getting his Grace back. “Doubt that, bitch,” he muttered to his absent little brother, and then grinned. There was no way Sam could doubt his goodness, his belonging, anymore. And no matter what happened, Sam had a better way to protect himself now.

He just needed his own back and they’d be in good shape.

“There’s a spot of land not far from here,” Castiel said, eyes on the horizon. “A good place to bury them where they won’t be disturbed.”

Dean turned back and watched Gabriel and Raphael approach Abaddon’s remains. Raphael looked confused but Gabriel—

Gabriel looked the most solemn and serious he’d ever seen. It made Dean want to ask, made him want to move towards his little brothers, but then in an instant Gabriel bent towards the ground and disappeared. Raphael still looked bewildered, though, and the body of Josie had been left behind.

“Let me guess, the humans get to carry the heavy bodies,” Rufus said, and Dean finally moved to help the hunters.


	15. Chapter 15

By the time Gabriel returned to Bobby’s place, the party was already in full swing. Jo sat in a corner with Ezekiel, grinning from ear to ear. They weren’t completely in each other’s space but it was an awfully close thing. Across the room, Bobby and Ellen were both pretending to not watch them and were doing a fairly horrible job of it.

It made Raphael’s heart light, to see them doing such mundane, every-day things.

_You think this is mundane?_

He grinned at Toni’s incredulous voice. _I believe that young attraction and concerned parenting should be part of the every day,_ he told her. _So yes. Mundane. And gloriously so._

_I guess that includes your brothers too?_

Given that Sam and Dean were seated opposite each other in the kitchen, trying to teach Castiel and Sidria some sort of drinking game, yes, it was perfect. Rufus looked as if he’d been trying to help but was now just content to do the drinking. Lucifer was carefully using his Grace to shamelessly shift the bottle every time Rufus went looking for it, and Dean was desperately trying not to laugh and give it away. Castiel seemed more than a little amused but had what Dean would call a poker face, remaining neutral at first glance. Sidria was asking Rufus questions with a very innocent look on her face, but she was clearly acting as Lucifer’s accomplice, drawing Rufus’s attention away in order to let Lucifer move the bottle.

Lucifer’s Grace was bright and untouched and clear. It was enough to settle his own Grace. His little brother, returned to full glory at last.

It only made Raphael all the more certain that Michael wouldn’t be far behind.

Gabriel emerged amidst Lucifer tugging Rufus’s glass away again. “That’s just cruel, taking a man’s drink,” Gabriel said, smile bright, and Rufus sputtered as he dragged his glass back. Dean laughed, soul bright, but Gabriel’s smile was too bright. False and pasted on, and his Grace reflected as much, nothing that the humans would notice.

Lucifer saw it in an instant, as did Castiel. “Well when you took off, I couldn’t pull anything more elaborate than that,” Lucifer said, keeping his voice as cheerful as possible. _Gabriel what’s wrong?_

It felt so good to hear his voice again, his song clearer and brighter than ever. Still, when Gabriel didn’t respond, Raphael’s own concern grew.

Dean couldn’t see Gabriel’s Grace, but he _could_ read Sam like a book, and Sam’s worry was clear to see despite his cheerful guise. “Yeah, let’s catch up,” Dean said, pushing himself up from the table. “Anael, Sid, drink Rufus under the table.”

“As if,” Rufus snorted, and Anael and Sidria shared a grin. Raphael made a mental note to check Rufus’s liver later for possible damage.

Gabriel didn’t say anything, just turned and headed out the front door. Once he was out, he rounded on them, but it wasn’t in anger. No, it was almost desperate, and Raphael understood why when he all but engulfed Lucifer in his embrace. Lucifer smiled and held on almost just as hard.

“I can’t believe you did it,” Gabriel mumbled. His Grace wasn’t nearly as quiet, bouncing in joy and doing a poor job of keeping his volume under control. If the entire Host hadn’t somehow felt Lucifer’s re-emergence, Gabriel’s Grace was going to tell them. “Luce, you _did it_.”

“He really did,” Dean said, and there was no jealousy, nothing that said he was unhappy that his little brother had found his Grace first. No, there was nothing but awe and his own joy and, above all else, relief. It was all Michael wanted for his little brother, and now, even more than before, Lucifer’s Grace was radiant and bursting full of light. More importantly, he was far safer now than he had been as a human. That, Raphael knew, Dean prized above all else. Raphael understood. He may or may not have constantly checked in on Lucifer and Ezekiel as they flew to Heaven with the two souls, even though they were swift about it.

Being a big brother wasn’t the world’s easiest or least stressful job.

“Okay, okay,” and it was Sam who laughed, looking embarrassed yet warmed all at the same time. He nudged Gabriel away but his Grace was clearly touched. It brushed against Gabriel’s and Gabriel’s immediately brightened in response. It was Lucifer’s greatest gift, Raphael thought: his brightness seemed to spill over and lend itself to others.

“What, I can’t be excited to see you?” Gabriel said, still smiling and looking far happier than when he’d arrived. “Your Grace is back, Samshine, and emphasis on the shine.”

He turned to Dean, eyebrows raised. “Your turn.”

“Yes, please,” Castiel said, pursing his lips. “We’d all feel a great deal better if you also had your Grace returned.” He didn’t need to say anything, but Raphael knew that he was thinking about Abaddon’s easy tossing of Dean. For a moment, unable to feel Dean’s soul through the fire ring, Raphael had feared he was dead.

“Working on it,” Dean said. “Now talk to me about what’s going on.”

With a sigh Gabriel stuffed his hands in his pockets, but his wings twitched in agitation. “Gabe,” Sam said, frowning. “What happened?”

“Did you catch a glimpse of it?”

Raphael frowned. “Of what?” He still didn’t understand just what about Abaddon’s corpse had left Gabriel so concerned. “Did she have something on her, like an ingredient to go with dragon scales?”

“The blade,” Gabriel continued. “Big bone looking thing. Last seen with one Father of Murder.”

Dean’s eyes went wide. “Wait, the First Blade? Like, the one that went with the Mark?”

“Yeah. It felt the same, that hollow, angry feeling. With the Mark gone, it was probably just a powerful weapon. One that I don’t want anyone to get a hold of, let alone Abaddon, Knight of Hell.”

Sam wasn’t shining brightly anymore. Sam looked pale and almost frightened. “Cain gave it to her,” he said numbly. “That’s the only way the blade would’ve gone to her. Which meant…”

Raphael felt his eyes shut at the implications. If Cain had been involved, then this had been part of Metatron’s original plans. Whatever Abaddon was wrapped up in was part of his original machinations.

“This wasn’t plan C, or P, this was plan A this whole time,” Dean said. His lips thinned in anger. “Whatever’s rolling was _still_ part of Metatron’s intent to scour the Earth, eliminate humanity, and, oh yeah, kill Sam.”

“He was fine with killing you, too,” Sam pointed out. At least his own shock was starting to warm up under the thought of Dean being harmed. “Either of us could’ve gone and he would’ve been fine. Then one of us would’ve been rotting in the Cage or under his hand.”

_Wait wait wait_ , Toni said, all but vibrating, and it startled Raphael enough that he nearly went sideways into a rusting car. Dean reached for him immediately, even before Sam or Gabriel, eyes wide, but Raphael waved him off. “No, I’m, I’m all right. Toni, what—?”

_The Mark with the blade, right?_

“Yes, the Mark and the First Blade went together,” Raphael said, still bewildered. No one else looked as if they understood, and he knew they couldn’t hear her, but he was sort of hoping someone would understand what she might be driving at. “I don’t understand why that made you so excitable.”

_Don’t call me excitable. Don’t you get it? The Mark was on Lucifer before it went to Cain, right?_

“Yes, the Mark was on Lucifer. Toni—”

_And who are they looking for?_

Raphael froze. “Raphael, what’s wrong?” Castiel demanded.

Slowly Raphael turned his gaze to Sam. Even while Sam frowned, all the more confused now, Dean’s mouth parted in shock. “They wanted Lucifer,” Dean said, voice low. “That’s who Tabbris and Abaddon were looking for. They wanted _you_.”

Gabriel cursed. “Her having that blade and attacking you wasn’t a coincidence, Luce. She had it for a reason.”

“What would it have done to him?” Castiel asked. Sam’s eyes were wide now, small and shallow breaths getting faster by the moment. Beside him, Dean looked ready to ignite, fury in his eyes so great that they flared.

No, that _was_ a flare, bright and sudden, and for a moment, Raphael saw the outline of six great wings, all spread out to protect Lucifer. An instant later, they were gone.

This time, Lucifer startled backwards. “Your Grace,” he whispered. Dean frowned. “Michael, your Grace, it was there. I, I saw it. But how-?”

“We’ve been seeing it for a while,” Raphael said. “Glimmers here and there. It’s getting more pronounced. With your Grace having returned, it could be at any time now.”

“Or another five years,” Dean shot back, but he looked hopeful. “Not fast enough to keep him safe from whatever the hell Metatron had cooked up with that blade.”

“The Mark’s been destroyed,” Lucifer said. “Remember what Father told us? The Cage, the Mark, it’s all gone now.”

Gabriel just crossed his arms. “Pretty sure that news hasn’t made the rounds yet. So yeah, they were probably banking on it doing a little more than leaving a scar. Calling the Mark back to him, killing him, empowering him, take your pick.”

The possibilities were more than Raphael could think about. Lucifer’s shoulders hunched in, Grace dimming slightly, and Raphael’s wings immediately flew to rest against him. He got a small smile for that, as well as a nudge of Lucifer’s wings against his own.

Heavens above was he so stupidly grateful to have his little brother back.

“Tell Toni she’s a smart cookie,” Gabriel said. “And remind me not to underestimate her.”

_He shouldn’t underestimate me to begin with._

“That would be prudent,” was all Raphael said. Dean shared a conspiratorial grin with Sam, saying so much more with a single look than they could any words. Yes, Michael would be back to full power before too long.

Something made a small sound off in the far corner of the yard. They turned as one, blades falling into place. Dean pulled his piece out, and Raphael noted Sam reaching for his own despite the blade in his one hand.

“If it’s a rodent, none of us are going to feel particularly smart,” Raphael murmured. He couldn’t sense a life form, though, but there was _something_. Something else out there, just beyond his reach.

They crept down the path, weapons up. It went unspoken that Dean wound up in the middle of the pack, Lucifer in front of him, Castiel behind him, with Raphael and Gabriel at his sides. He made a face but seemed to accept it, which saved Raphael a great deal of arguing. He wasn’t going to take any chances with his human brother.

The path broke to the right and left. Lucifer took a sharp inhale, then darted out into the middle of the path, the others immediately following.

Nothing. There was nothing there. “Which side?” Dean whispered. “Garage or rocks?”

A large groaning sound suddenly pierced the air, then a random whistling. It caught Raphael’s eye first, something dark and large sailing through the night, aimed straight at them. “Split!” he shouted, flying to shove Gabriel out of the way even as Lucifer caught Dean and flew a short distance away. Castiel wound up beside Gabriel just as the rusted car landed where they’d been standing.

“Holy _shit_ ,” Dean managed to gasp. “What the actual _fuck_?”

Something else flew at them, a hood that sliced through the air like a bizarre frisbee, and Raphael just grabbed Gabriel and Castiel both and flew towards Lucifer. They were stronger together. And Raphael would rather die than see them separated again.

_Raphael, Gabriel, if it comes down to it, you need to go back to the house and get everyone out,_ Lucifer sent to them.

_Lucifer, I’m fairly certain I’m still the big brother here,_ Raphael noted. As if that was going to stop Lucifer from making the call, but it was half to hide to his own concern at the situation, half to hide the stupid joy that welled up within him at hearing Lucifer’s song once more.

Then he saw him. One man stood where the path had ended, looking more at home in the yard than Raphael did in Toni’s nice flats and designer jeans. His beard was scruffy, much as Bobby’s was, and his thick coat looked much like the one that Dean wore.

He smiled at them, but there was something wrong about it, something too familiar. He wasn’t a demon, there was no darkness inside of him. But he wasn’t human, either. He was a void, a pit that almost felt…hungry.

“Hello,” the man said. “I’ve been looking for you for some time.”

“Should’ve called first,” Dean said casually, but his voice was hard. “We’ve had put out the welcome mat.”

It was a stern reminder that whatever this man was, he’d gotten through the warding. Was he human after all? A human without a soul? It made Raphael shudder to think of. How…wrong that was.

The man just kept smiling. “I doubt that. You’ve never been particularly welcoming to us.”

Raphael froze. No. _No_. “Castiel, Gabriel, back to the house, now,” he ordered, fighting to keep his voice steady. He was furious but above all else, he was frightened for those in the small house behind them who had no clue what was here in their midst.

“Oh no, let them stay,” the man all but purred. “Especially the young one. He looks…tender.”

Gabriel snarled and stepped in front of Castiel. “You touch him, it’ll be the last thing you do.”

“Raph, what’s wrong?” Dean hissed. “Raph!”

“I gave you an order, now **go** ,” Raphael rumbled, and suddenly a scream went up from behind them. Castiel took off, Gabriel right behind him. _Please let them make it in time, please, oh please._

The man raised an eyebrow. “Like I said. Never particularly welcoming. That’s not nice…cousin.”

He threw his head back and it split open wide. Teeth and a gaping mouth emerged, ready to consume everything in its path.

Even as Lucifer shifted his stance, even as Dean cursed in surprise, Raphael felt his Grace roll with disgust and fear. It couldn’t be here, it shouldn’t be here, they were locked away. Yet here it was, angry and hungry.

With a roar the Leviathan ran at them.

It burned through his mind, a puzzle and event he couldn’t understand. Leviathans. There was an honest to goodness Leviathan in front of them, and there were probably more in the house.

Lucifer’s wings jerked with the need to go back to the house, to see, to help, to protect. But he couldn’t leave Raphael and Dean out here alone with it, either.

A _Leviathan._ How? They were supposed to be in Purgatory, locked away. Michael had nearly died when they’d shoved the Leviathans into the hole that was Purgatory. They shouldn’t be here. They were _never_ meant to be here.

The Leviathan roared and charged at them. Lucifer didn’t hesitate, just pulled his blade out and sent it flying. The Leviathan dodged it easily and kept coming.

One shot from Dean made it change course towards his big brother. He didn’t think, just reached out and tugged the blade back towards himself. In an instant it was back in his hand and he brought it down on the Leviathan. Black goo spurted out from the chest, making the Leviathan howl in pain. Even still, it forced its way forward, pushing up towards Lucifer’s hand. His wings flared out and fought to give him more momentum to fight back.

Too strong, it was too strong, and it was going to get through him and get to Dean—

Raphael’s blade swung through and straight through the neck. The head toppled off, tongue lolling against the teeth.

That wasn’t going to be enough. “Dean,” he called, but Dean was already there, kicking the head away from the body. The last thing they needed was for it to reattach. Archangel blades were better than anything else, but they weren’t going to get the job done. Not permanently.

He couldn’t deal with it right then and there. No, he had family to get to before the Leviathans ate them all. They’d eat through Castiel and Gabriel if they had half a chance, and he flew back to the house.

There was another Leviathan in battle with Gabriel, who was desperately trying to keep it held off. The younger angels were standing firm between the fight and the humans, but it wasn’t going to last much longer than that. The Leviathan suddenly swung its arm out, pinning Gabriel against the wall. “Cas, go!” he choked out.

Not on Lucifer’s watch. “Hey, asshole!” he shouted. “Your buddy’s dead.”

The Leviathan stopped. He slowly turned, head bending at an awkward angle. His well-tailored suit stood out amidst the wild that was Bobby’s living room. “You lie,” he said.

Lucifer just grinned and held up his blade. Black goo oozed down to the handle. “Like I said,” and he gave a casual shrug. “Dead.”

In an instant Gabriel was sent flying, hitting the wall near the stairs and landing hard. Castiel and Anael immediately darted over to try and get him upright. His Grace was strong, but taxed. He’d live.

Now it was just up to Lucifer to do the same.

One on one with a Leviathan and Lucifer knew he was screwed. He held up his blade anyway, eyes on the mouth. “Scared, little angel?” the Leviathan taunted. “You should be. For what it’s worth, you’re not particularly tasty, but I’ll eat you anyway.”

“Go eat yourself,” Lucifer snapped. The Leviathan growled and opened its mouth to reveal its cavernous maw.

“Sam! _Luce_!”

The Leviathan almost grinned and dove forward. Lucifer met it and threw it back, heart pounding. Not Dean. _Not Dean._

With a shout he shoved as hard as he could, putting all six wings into it, sending the Leviathan flying into the kitchen. “Go!” Lucifer yelled, and the angels and humans tore out of the front door. The Leviathan had broken the sink and cupboards underneath and was trying to stand up. When it pushed up, however, it stumbled back down and hissed in pain.

A trap? Trying to get their attention? Trying to draw him closer? No, that was genuine pain. But why…?

“Wait,” Lucifer called, and the group froze at the door. “Bobby, what’s under the sink?”

“Everything but the kitchen sink,” Bobby said sarcastically. “Why?”

The Leviathan tried to get up again but stumbled to the ground. Parts of it were burning away, skin and flesh dripping burnt black goo everywhere. Lucifer’s mind raced as he tried to remember what was under the sink. Cleaner, bleach, soap, spare towels, a few anti-hex bags, holy water—

When the Leviathan moved, the broken box became evident. It couldn’t be.

Could it?

“You’re hurting my head, flying that fast,” Gabriel complained, a little breathlessly.

“You missed it.”

“I did. What the hell is borax?”

“I got more,” Bobby said, ever quick on the draw, and Dean didn’t wait, just bolted for the downstairs. Sam twisted his hand around the blade.

The Leviathan glared up at him. “What did you do to me?”

“I told you,” Sam said angrily, “I killed your buddy. You came after _my_ family, _my_ brother. Did you think you were getting out alive?”

Even wounded, the Leviathan was dangerous. He lumbered up, mouth open and barreling towards him, too fast for him to do anything besides raise his blade in defense.

Suddenly it ran off to the side instead, falling to the ground, coughing and choking. Dean stood above it, one box of borax open and empty, the other box ready. “Touch my little brother, and you’ll wish you’d stayed where we put you,” Dean growled.

One thing at a time. Even as the Leviathan coughed, even as Sam raised his blade, the Leviathan swung out blindly, nearly taking Dean out at the legs. Sam plunged his blade forward through the mouth, but as he pulled it back, teeth closed around his wrist. He cried out in pain and tried to jerk his hand free. A tongue wrapped around his blade and up to his fingers. “Sammy!” Dean shouted.

Suddenly Raphael and Gabriel were there, each grabbing a side of the mouth. Slowly the mouth opened, letting Sam pull his hand free. His blood mingled freely with the black goo, but none of that mattered to Dean. He grabbed the blade from Sam, stabbed straight through the box of borax, and plunged it into the neck.

The Leviathan convulsed. With a snarl Dean pulled the blade to the side, severing the head and sending it to the floor.

It was fitting, Sam figured weakly as he tumbled to the floor as well, that he’d lose his Grace so soon after getting it back. He could feel it flickering inside of him, the Leviathan blood making it spark and ache. “Luce,” Gabriel said desperately, and it was all he heard in the sudden tumult. Then there were hands catching him, holding him, Ellen shouting for a towel, Sidria insisting she’d fly him back to Heaven, and Raphael pushing through them all in silence. He took Lucifer’s hand in his and closed his eyes.

_Don’t you dare,_ Lucifer pushed out, body trembling as shock set in. _Raphael—_

_It is my Grace to do with as I please,_ Raphael replied firmly. _So shut up._

_And I’m next in line,_ Gabriel told him without hesitation. _Pretty sure everyone else is, too._

Then there was nothing except Raphael’s Grace bolstering his, healing him, giving him strength to take deep breaths. He closed his eyes and swayed between blood loss, adrenaline, and the pure power of his big brother’s Grace.

An instant later, two familiar hands gripped him tight and pulled him against a shoulder he’d leaned on for more years than he could count. “Dean,” he murmured.

“Raph, that’s enough,” Dean said quietly but firmly. “We need you to keep healing him. Gabriel, go.”

“You got it.”

The next Grace wasn’t as calm, but it was vibrant and full of life and it made him smile. He would’ve known his little brother’s Grace anywhere. For now, it wasn’t just vivacious, it was strong and it was giving him enough Grace to let him push back against the Leviathan blood.

When Gabriel’s stopped, something tentative, hesitant, came next, but it was warm and kind, and Lucifer knew who it was. “Thanks, Sid,” he whispered. Right beside it was a stalwart Grace, loyal and eager to help, and of course it was Castiel. It was stronger than he would’ve guessed, but it wasn’t really a surprise. Not really. He knew Castiel better than that.

When he opened his eyes, Raphael was finishing with his wrist. There wasn’t so much as a scar to where the teeth had pierced his skin and Grace. “And here I thought I’d seen it all,” Rufus murmured behind them.

Sam was sure they had to look like a mess: him on the floor, Dean crouched beside him, Raphael and Gabriel kneeling in front of him, and a headless corpse in front of them. “I’m okay,” Sam told them. “Thank you, all of you.”

“You didn’t let us help,” Anael said, all but pouting in her tone. “Ezekiel and I could’ve helped.”

“I know,” Sam told her with a smile. She still looked disgruntled. “You did help. You got everyone out of the way and kept them safe. They’d be dead if not for you.”

“Not a chance,” Ezekiel said fiercely, standing beside Jo and Ellen. “I’d have taken on whatever it was for them.”

Sam blinked. “You don’t know what it is?” Dean said. Even Raphael looked surprised.

It was Gabriel who snorted. “Of course they don’t. These asshats were locked away and became more legend than anything else. They’re Leviathans.”

Castiel inhaled sharply, eyes wide. “They can’t be.”

“Wait, Leviathans?” Rufus asked. “The sort that’s biblical?”

“The same. We fought them back to Purgatory and then Dad sealed them up.” Gabriel shrugged. “They’re nothing but hunger personified. They’d decimate the world in a heartbeat and eat everyone in their path. Demons, angels, monsters, humans. They wouldn’t care.”

“I’ve never seen one of them,” Sidria whispered, eyes wide. “I, I thought they were just a myth.”

Raphael’s eyes went dark. “No. Father made a lot of things he shouldn’t have. This was just one of them.”

Time to steer clear of the anger and hurt Raphael was still clearly working through. “We need to keep the head separate,” Sam told them. “We don’t need it coming back anytime soon.”

“Wait, it’s not dead?” Ellen said, stunned. “That ain’t dead-dead?”

“Not even close,” Raphael said. “Consider it dead for the time being, but Lucifer’s right. We need to separate head and body.”

“The one outside,” Castiel began, and Sam pushed himself upright. He didn’t so much as waver whenever he found his feet, and he felt his Grace relax. Still there, still all right.

Gabriel snapped his fingers, taking the mess outside as they headed for the doors. Even as Sam went after the others, however, Dean caught his elbow and held him back. “What’s wrong?” Sam asked immediately. “Are you hurt?”

“You want to tell me what that was?”

The question took him off guard. “What what was?”

Dean pursed his lips, clearly waiting for the others to leave. Sam rolled his shoulders back and waited. Whatever Dean had on his mind, he’d wanted no audience for, which meant it was going to include a lot of yelling. “You, in here, taunting that thing. I heard you while I was racing to get inside.”

“It had Gabriel,” Sam protested. “I got him free.”

“You took on a single Leviathan _by yourself_ ,” Dean said, gaze narrowing. “And then, oh, you just _plunged_ your hand into its mouth? Did you even think?”

It wasn’t anger pushing at Dean, it was fear. It didn’t stop the tendril of hurt that rose at being chided. “What happened to trusting me?” Sam asked, forcing himself to not cross his arms.

Dean shut his eyes and shook his head. “Dammit Sam, this isn’t about trusting you. I do that as easy as breathing.”  
“Then what do you want me to do?” Sam asked almost helplessly. “Talk to me.”

When Dean raised his gaze, there was definitely fear there. “I want you to stop throwing yourself at a problem,” he said. “You’re scaring the crap out of me. You went after that Leviathan like you had nothing to lose.”

“No,” Sam said firmly. “I had _everything_ to lose. I’d have given myself to save all of you. Especially you.”

Dean smiled miserably. “Yeah. That’s what scares me,” he admitted softly.

“You’d do the same thing,” Sam pointed out. Pot, kettle, and it applied far more than Dean thought it did. Dean had nearly tumbled into the Cage with him, had thrown himself into the blackness of the reeducation just to reach Sam. If Dean expected him to not be willing to do the same, he was going to start throwing the word hypocrite around.

But Dean just let out a small sigh. “Just use that Grace and protect you too, all right? At least until I get my own Grace back so I can watch your back?”

Sam slowly smiled. “You don’t need Grace for that. You never have.”

He turned towards the door to join the others outside, then paused and glanced back. “I knew you were coming with the borax. I had every bit of faith in you coming to back me up. You’ll always come after me.”

“Damn straight,” Dean said. He finally shook his head with a wry grin as he moved to join Sam. “Just try to not make it too hard to come after you, will you?”

“You’d be disappointed if I didn’t.”

The punch to his shoulder was probably deserved. “Bitch.”

“Jerk.”


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I swear I'm not dead. Well. Mostly not dead. What you can't see behind the scenes is me rapidly typing out missing pieces to various chapters so I can connect them and you can get a slew all at once. We're about the midway point, if I had to hazard a guess, and a lot of the second half is connected and fully written. So. That's all good news.
> 
> Have some explanations and a bit of a breather.

By the time Sam and Dean finally emerged from what Gabriel could ascertain was the big brothering that Dean had desperately needed to give and Sam had absolutely needed to get, the rest of the group had arranged the two Leviathans on the ground, heads fifty feet away from the bodies. Gabriel still didn’t think it was far enough.

“Please tell me this is going to be the end of it for a while,” Rufus said. “Because I need a drink.”

“The drinks we had weren’t enough?” Anael asked incredulously.

“Not in the tiny glasses you insisted on using.”

“I could use a nap,” Ellen said. Jo looked similarly tired, and even Bobby was blearily blinking his eyes. It reminded Gabriel again that they were humans, and as strong as their souls were, they were all of them very, very mortal. And very much in need of showers and sleep.

Dean snorted. “I was just thinking about how we’ve been doing nothing but going full-tilt. Guess we’re going to keep doing that.” He didn’t look as exhausted as the others, but given that he’d just been yelling at Sam, Gabriel figured the adrenaline had yet to wear off. It’d hit him like a pile of bricks.

“Did Dean scold you appropriately?” Gabriel asked. Sam didn’t even look at him, but suddenly three wings slammed into him, sending him tumbling forward. Guess that answered his question.

_Knock it off,_ Sam told him, and Gabriel just raised both eyebrows.

_Your Grace was flickering faster than a strobe light. Dad above only knew what the hell the Leviathan blood would do to you. And you want me to knock it off?_

Sam just sighed but let it go. _They all do need to rest. Think we can do that?_

_Without hesitation, bright one,_ Raphael said, and Sam’s whole demeanor got a lot more relieved. Except for one part, one stroke of Grace that seemed buried in guilt and anxiousness. And it kept increasing the more Sam looked at Dean.

Yeah, all right, Gabriel should’ve seen it coming. _He’ll get it back,_ he sent, gently, to Sam. _He will._

_I don’t even know how I got mine back,_ Sam pointed out. _How can I help him get his? I never wanted mine if it meant Dean didn’t have his._

And there was the very thing that Gabriel had somehow always known. His brothers, never to be divided, and yet the universe kept wrenching them apart. Even now, standing side by side, they weren’t together. Sam had his Grace back, shining brightly in the night, and Dean…didn’t.

Gabriel shook himself and tuned back into the human conversation that had been going on while he’d been silently conversing with Sam and Raphael. “…fire’s out of the question,” Rufus finished.

Ellen just grinned. “I don’t mind trying, if that’s what you’re asking. I’ve yet to meet something that fire doesn’t help even the odds a little, and if it’s reacting to borax like that, then a salt and burn might help.”

She wasn’t too far off the mark. “It’s not going to keep it dead, though,” Gabriel pointed out. “Sorry.”

“Then what _does_ keep it dead?” Bobby drawled. “’Cause every book I’ve got doesn’t say a lick about how to knock ‘em. The borax was a stroke of damn luck. Oh, about that,” he added, and then he cuffed Sam upside the back of his head. Gabriel watched in amusement as Sam’s hair went straight across his face.

“Ow,” Sam said petulantly, but Dean looked satisfied.

“Next time, let go of the damn blade before it eats you,” Bobby growled. “Pretty sure you can get another sword. We can’t get another one of you.”

“Yes, please,” Castiel muttered. “While there’s plenty of other angels who are willing to sacrifice themselves for the greater good and each other, many of them standing here in Grace and Graceless forms, there is truly only one you.”

Hot damn but Castiel was in a mood. “Wow, way to roll the bus over people,” Dean grumbled.

Ezekiel snorted. “As if he’s one to talk. He gave himself up to protect me when Abaddon took us.”

Gabriel’s head whipped over to Castiel, where everyone else was staring at him. Castiel shifted uncomfortably under their gazes. “It was the best choice,” he finally said. “One I don’t regret.”

There was more in it than that, but Gabriel understood too well how much you needed to talk about torture and sacrifices made and how much you just really wanted to never think about it again. He’d get it out of Cassie one way or another, but right then wasn’t probably the time.

Something Dean had come to the same conclusion of, if his direct change of subject was anything to go by. “So. Leviathans. Somehow back in our world.”

Sam’s wing came up behind Castiel to rest against his shoulders, a silent show of support, and Castiel gave a small smile. Yeah, Gabriel would be dragging it out of the kid sooner rather than later, but at the moment, there were two not-so-dead Leviathans in front of them.

“They don’t belong here,” Ellen said. It wasn’t a question.

“They belong in Purgatory,” Raphael said. “Consider it…Hell’s backyard. It’s where the monsters of this world go when they’re dead. It’s their afterlife.”

It was a shit afterlife, but it wasn’t like the Empty was much better. Gabriel shuddered at the thought. That thought was enough motivation to keep him breathing and living for as long as he could.

_You’re not going to the Empty anytime soon,_ Sam told him fiercely. Gabriel grinned. Dad above had he missed his big brother.

_No one is,_ Raphael added.

“So…how do we get them back there?” Sidria asked hesitantly. “Is there a way to kill them permanently?”

“Dad could,” Gabriel said, and didn’t miss the rolled eyes from Raphael. Better, but still pissed off. Gabriel could relate. “Maybe a spell? Or stabbing them with an archangel blade?”

“Worth a shot,” Sam said. Before he could move forward, however, Dean grabbed Sam’s blade from him and moved towards one of the beheaded bodies. He straddled it, boots planted firmly in the dirt, and Gabriel tensed. If it grabbed him, Gabriel had seconds before it could kill him. They’d gotten lucky earlier when the Leviathan had played cat and mouse with everyone in the house. If it’d been in hunting mode, they’d have come back to remains.

Sam, too, was ready to jump in, and Raphael’s wings were taut. With two steady hands Dean clutched the blade above the headless corpse. Then he plunged it straight into the chest.

Black goo exploded out of the wound, making everyone fling themselves backwards to avoid the spray. Only Dean was left standing, now covered in the black goo. The body itself still looked fine otherwise.

Slowly Dean blinked. “I don’t think it worked,” Castiel said after a moment.

“Okay,” and Sam grimaced, looking far more grossed out than Gabriel had really ever seen him, “that is _disgusting_.”

“Oh I’ll give you disgusting,” Dean growled, glaring at his brother who didn’t have a single drop on him. “A whole heap of it on you.”

“It’s dead Leviathan,” Gabriel supplied helpfully. “Or not-dead Leviathan. They’re not pretty.”

Dean made his way over, desperately trying to get it off of him. Gabriel waved his hand and cleaned off his jacket. And face. And hands and jeans and pretty much everything. “Thanks,” Dean grumbled. “Guess we’re on to plan B.”

“Do you have a plan B?” Rufus asked. “Does anyone have a plan B?”

Bobby shook his head. “Not me. But I know somewhere that might.”

The thought that flew through Bobby’s head reminded Gabriel, for the twentieth time, to not underestimate Singer. “The bunker,” Sam said, eyes wide.

Dean patted his jacket pocket. Looked like the key was still safe and sound. “Worthy of a stop for sure. Raph, is there anything we can do to handle them not coming back to life for now?”

“Ellen has a good point. Borax and salt share a lot of the same compounds. I think a salt and burn would keep them merrily roasting for a while.”

Dean glared at the bodies. “I thought we sealed those bastards up. So why the hell are they back out?”

“I think I can help with that.”

They spun around to where a familiar face stood. She scrunched her nose at the corpse and delicately stepped around it. “Still as gross as I remember,” she muttered.

“Hello, Meg,” Castiel said, and the demon’s face lit up. Gabriel rolled his eyes. Bees and a demon. His brother was a special one.

“It’s my favorite Feathers,” she said gleefully. “Didn’t think _you’d_ be here too. This makes my visit way better now.”

Dean just raised his eyebrow. “You were saying?”

“Hush, I was just getting familiar with Clarence again,” she said, but she glanced back at the Leviathans. “Purgatory’s had a big old hole punched in it.”

Sam’s mouth fell open and Gabriel’s stomach fell somewhere around his ankles. A hole in Purgatory? But that would mean—

“We’ve got it as boxed up as we can,” Meg told them. “The hole’s in Hell, but it’s close enough to the surface that it’s not difficult for them to slide on out.”

“Did anything else get out?” Sam asked. Meg shook her head, and Sam’s shoulders visibly came down, as did Dean’s.

There were a lot of nasty things in Purgatory. If any of them got out…the Leviathans were bad enough. The rest would just take the situation from bad to worse.

“Who did the punching?” Gabriel asked.

Meg made a face. “Three guesses. First two don’t count.”

Oh _fuck._ “Abaddon?” Dean exclaimed. “You’ve gotta be kidding me. How the hell did she get into Hell in the first place?”

“And why would she open it in Hell anyway?” Raphael asked, perplexed. “It would destroy that which she hopes to conquer.”

Meg snorted. “You think she cares about a few demons that weren’t siding with her anyway? She was probably hoping they’d make it to the throne room.”

That made sense. But letting them loose them so close to the surface meant she’d wanted them to get out to Earth. And that…that made no sense to Gabriel. What did she get out of it? What could Tabbris or Metatron have gotten out of it?

And why Leviathans?

Meg made a face and stepped away from the body. “I forgot how sticky that ichor was,” she said. “No other stick like it.”

Suddenly Raphael and Anael sprang forward, eyes wide and alight with _something_. “That’s it!” they said at the same time.

Gabriel blinked. Dean stared. Meg slowly took another step away towards Castiel, who was carefully sliding closer to where Bobby and Ellen were watching in clear disgust. “Um,” Sam said, clearing his throat. “What’s ‘it’?”

Carefully Raphael knelt down by the body and put his fingers in the ichor, nearly making Gabriel gag. Ew. However, his brother seemed genuinely interested in it, rubbing his fingers around and trying to pull them apart. “This would do it,” he said, and he sounded seriously excited. “Anael, we can do it. I really think this is it.”

“Do _what_?” Gabriel asked incredulously. “Stop doing that, by the way, you’re just making me ill.”

“Never mind,” Raphael said, shaking his head. He produced a glass vial and, in a moment, had a large amount of the goo in the bottle. “I’ll tell you when it’s done.”

Anael seemed just as excited, lips upturned in a large smile, and it made Gabriel uneasy. Like, seriously, what on earth were they doing?

Whatever. There were other things to deal with. Including two not-dead-enough Leviathans.

“How many Leviathans got out?” Dean asked Meg. “Because I think that’s sort of step one. We need them contained.”

The look the demon gave them wasn’t encouraging. “Probably a hundred or so.”

Gabriel’s Grace jerked in shock. “A _hundred_? Are you kidding me?”

“Wish I was. Believe me. We killed another fifty or so down in Hell so trust me, it could’ve been a lot worse.”

More than a lot worse. One hundred was still an amount that could topple governments, destroy world order, and eat a hell of a lot of people. Especially if they worked together.

“Wait, you killed them?” Bobby asked. “How’d you manage that?”

“They’re different in Hell,” Meg said, shrugging. “Not as much with the body so much as the goo. And it wasn’t so much killing as it was shoving them back through.”

“Any way you can hunt down the ones that got away?” Castiel asked Meg. “Is there some sort of, I don’t know, spell you can do?”

“That only works on things that are of this world,” Meg told him. “Which Leviathan aren’t. So we’d need something older than they are to find them.”

Gabriel had seen it coming a million miles away. Still, it made him cringe a little, because four archangels could most likely handle a hundred Leviathan, especially with the legions of Heaven behind them. Three archangels with a decent amount of angels could probably manage it, but it’d hurt a lot more, and the likelihood of getting them all in one fell swoop was considerably less. Three archangels and an unknown number of Heaven’s best because who knew who they could trust? That…was a lot less comforting.

Something that had clearly come to Sam and Dean’s attention, if the way their faces fell was any indication. “We’ll handle it,” Gabriel said firmly, because they didn’t need to worry about this. Not now. There were other issues to worry about, like the flickering of Grace from Dean and Sam’s almost dying from facing down a single Leviathan.

“Can’t you just…snap your fingers and open a portal to Purgatory?” Meg asked, almost hesitantly. “I feel like you have the power to do that. The whole archangel thing and all that.”

“Normally, yes,” Raphael agreed. He looked reluctant to give her the information, but Gabriel just nudged him with a wing and he sighed before continuing. “But that’s a portal for us to go through, or perhaps even humans and demons. Not creatures that belong in Purgatory. And certainly not Leviathan. They’re monstrous creatures and huge. They need a large tear to get out.”

“It took a hell of a lot to pack them away in the first place,” Gabriel told her. “But that doesn’t mean it’s impossible.”

“Gabriel, a word?” Dean said quietly. Beside him, Sam had an equally grim look on his face, and just once, just _once_ , he’d really like for things to go their way for more than five seconds.

He wasn’t dealing with this. “Listen to me, you two. We’ll get Dean’s Grace back BUT we can still do this without your Grace. We need the four of us, together.”

“Four of us with Graces, Gabe,” Dean said. Sam’s anxiousness only grew and Heaven above, Gabriel was so _through_ with life not giving them a single break.

Gabriel shook his head. “We’ll make it work. It didn’t take a ton of Grace to do what we needed to do last time. It just took the four of us. We have three. We’ll get it done.” He was ignoring the fact that it’d taken Dad chiming in to seal the final deal. And that they definitely didn’t have that this time around.

How the hell had Abaddon intended on controlling them after letting them out?

At the end of the day, though, they had to do this on their own. Because Leviathans wandering around wasn’t anyone’s idea of a good time.

Meg sighed. “Crowley’s going to want to talk to you. Just letting you know now.”

“He can come to us when he wants to talk to us, especially since he didn’t even return my phone call,” Sam said. Then, slightly softer, “You don’t have to be his messenger, you know.”

Meg grinned. “Yeah, but this way I get to see you all. Including Clarence.”

Okay, so Gabriel sort of understood the whole thing between Sam and Meg, the understanding, the shared knowledge. Their history was complicated but he got it.

But Cassie and Meg? That he didn’t understand. Especially since Castiel, straight-laced rule follower, Captain of his own battalion, was grinning back at her with a raised eyebrow.

Where had he gone wrong in teaching the kid?

_I believe in this instance, it went just about the way you showed him._

“Buzz off, Raph,” Gabriel muttered good-naturedly. Raphael just smiled.

“So, bunker?” Dean asked. “Figure out how to actively wipe Leviathans off the face of the Earth?”

“And see what she wanted,” Bobby reminded him. “Dragon scales are powerful items and we still need an answer for what she was after.”

Meg frowned. “Who needs what from where now?”

“Abaddon,” Sam said. “She wanted to break into the Men of Letters’ headquarters. She was looking for something.”

Meg grinned. “So she _is_ dead. Nicely done.” Then she frowned. “Wait. Those stuffed shirts?” she said disdainfully. For once, Gabriel had to agree with her. “What the hell did she want from them?”

“Apparently they hold a great many mystical items,” Castiel told her. “I have to imagine she wanted something of the sort, given the host that she’d claimed.”

Anael made a face. “But she’d already punched a hole into Purgatory. What did she need more than that?”

“Another hole?” Jo muttered, but Gabriel paused. That would be exactly what she wanted. It made all the sense in the world for her to want another hole elsewhere.

Wait. Wait wait _wait_.

“How many demons did you set on the hole?” Gabriel demanded.

Meg startled back at his intensity. Even Dean looked surprised. He didn’t have time for any of that. “Meg, _how many_?”

“Everything Hell had,” Meg admitted. “Crowley even called me in to help. I’m not exactly welcome in Hell at the moment so I knew if he was asking me to come down, it was for a reason. He even sent up a call through the transference line but Heaven didn’t answer.”

“No wonder he didn’t call me back,” Sam muttered. “Dammit.”

Gabriel pinched his eyes shut. He could still feel Raphael’s Grace reeling with realization, and of course there’d been a reason. Of _course_.

“I don’t understand,” Castiel began, but Dean thankfully had put two and two together and come up with an _oh shit_.

“Do you know how many Leviathans are in Purgatory, Cas? Do you know how many we locked away?”

“Thousands,” Gabriel told him. When he looked up, all of the younger angels looked stricken, and even Meg looked unsettled. “Maybe millions. The fact that only a hundred got out is a miracle.”

Dean didn’t say anything. He didn’t have to: his face said everything for him. “It was a test,” Sam said quietly. “She wanted to see who would respond.”

“Heaven couldn’t answer,” Raphael told Meg. “There was…damage done in Heaven. No intercessions or prayers made it to anyone.”

“Well, shit,” Meg summed up neatly. “Abaddon intended to bust a hole through Purgatory again.”

“And again, and again,” Gabriel agreed. “She’s working with others. This isn’t going to stop. There’ll be tiny holes to Purgatory everywhere, and we’ll be split trying to cover them all.”

It was a perfect plan, in all honesty. It made him sick to admit it, but it was a fantastic plan. One he was looking forward to ruining.

“There’s no way four archangels can’t handle that,” Meg began, then stopped. Gabriel felt the flinch from his older brothers and resisted the urge to curse himself.

Raphael squared his shoulders. “Four archangels are going to be necessary if there’s a huge portal between this world and Purgatory. Smaller ones can be handled by angel and human alike.”

“Damn straight they can,” Ellen said. “I’ve got no problem stomping on things if I can figure out how.”

The bunker was looking more and more like their answer. “What about Heaven’s library?” Ezekiel said. “Would that have anything? I know there’s a separate library for texts that only archangels can read.”

“That’s so classist,” Meg muttered.

“Need to know more than anything else,” Sam told her. “I’m sure Hell’s got something similar.”

He got a shrug for that. “So what’s this bunker?”

“Hopefully an answer, but Zeke’s right, there’s more texts to help us, now that we’ve got an idea of what we’re looking for.” Dean nodded to Gabriel. “Sammy and I’ll take the bunker. Gabe, see what your bookshelf in Cali can cough up.”

“I’m coming with you,” Castiel said immediately. “I can help.”

“I’m giving you all the boring books,” Gabriel told him, but it was with an immense amount of warmth. It was nice, being the big brother sometimes. But he did still like being the little brother.

“Raphael?” Sam asked. Raphael’s eyes were still on the vial in his hands.

Anael shook her head. “We’re heading to the plains. We’ve got testing to do.”

“We’ll all reconvene here,” Raphael agreed. “Sidria, will you stay with Naomi and those who need sleep?”

“I thought you’d never ask,” Jo groaned, already heading for the house. Ezekiel immediately followed, and the sudden spark of amusement from both Dean and Sam made Gabriel’s fingers itch. Maybe he could turn Bobby’s couch into a heart-shaped one whenever the two of them sat down on it. Or pull a mariachi band out of nowhere to serenade them.

_No, Gabriel._

“You’re as dull as one of Singer’s kitchen knives,” Gabriel muttered to Castiel.

“You got a problem with my kitchen?”

“Yeah, the fact that a hunter should actually have, I don’t know, sharp knives?”

“I do,” Bobby said. “I just don’t keep ‘em in the obvious places.”

Of course he didn’t. “Paranoid bastard.”

Bobby just raised an eyebrow. “I’m still alive. I figure that counts for somethin’.”

“Quit flirting, I want to sleep,” Rufus grumbled as he headed after Jo and Ezekiel. Dean swallowed back a laugh but just barely. Bobby still glared at him like he’d laughed anyway. Meg’s eyes brightened considerably, and Gabriel should’ve known that Rufus would be her type, and Gabriel just wanted to take a picture, freeze the moment and let it live forever just like this. His dorky-ass family that he’d somehow become a part of.

_You’ve always been a part of a family, little one. You were the glue that held us together, even when we didn’t know each other._

He swallowed back the sudden sting of tears. _Sap,_ he accused Lucifer of affectionately. A small grin was his answer before his big brother caught hold of Dean’s shoulder and took off towards Nebraska. 

Gabriel flexed his wings. Human souls safely ensconced inside, Raphael and Anael heading off to do…whatever the hell it was they wanted to do with the goo, he and Castiel and Meg left outside.

He was going to regret it. He really was. “Do you want a lift?” he asked her. “Pretty sure Cassie wouldn’t mind.”

Meg paused, and she actually looked uncertain. “Not sure you can,” she said after a moment. “Not that I’m beyond trying, but I don’t know where you could grab hold to lift me.”

Castiel slowly stepped towards her, his Grace open and curious and warm. “The same place I hold onto with everyone else,” he said. “Your inner being.”

“I don’t have a soul,” Meg said, almost looking saddened by it. “Sorry, Clarence.”

“You have something,” Castiel told her. “Let me prove it to you.” And he held out his hand.

It felt oddly like intruding, something Gabriel usually did without reservations, but this time was different. This time was very much his little brother baring his heart to someone who didn’t probably deserve it.

Then Meg did something Gabriel hadn’t expected her to do.

She took hold of Castiel’s hand with both of her own. “Don’t drop me,” she joked.

And when Castiel pulled her in and took off towards California, the dawn breaking behind them, Gabriel followed behind them to make sure that she stayed in his grasp the whole way there.


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

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For what was supposed to be the treasure trove to end all treasure troves, it was decidedly…unassuming. Enough that Dean wasn’t sure they had the right place. “This?” he said incredulously, gesturing towards the dirty door a few steps down into a concrete archway. It looked more like a service tunnel for the nearby dam. “This is the bunker?”

Even Sam looked hesitant. “I’m not getting anything from inside,” he admitted. “But that could be from some serious warding, too. This is where Henry’s coordinates lead to. There’s only one way we’re actually going to know if it’s the place or not.” He glanced at Dean.

Dean silently pulled out the box that Henry had left them. The key was just that: a key that didn’t look special or presumptuous. Honestly, if he hadn’t known, he would’ve figured it was just one of Bobby’s skeleton keys that he kept around for who knew what purpose. It had decent heft in Dean’s hands, but it wasn’t exactly lighting up and pointing the way.

Well. It didn’t have to, not if it was in the right hands.

Sam already had his hand out. “Best idea you’ve had in a while,” he teased. His eyes bloomed with Grace.

Dean gave a snort. “Yeah, well, don’t get too used to it. I’m not sure how many more of those I’ll have.”

The Grace faded from his brother’s eyes and Dean cursed himself. “What do you mean?” Sam asked sharply, eyes narrowing. “Dean?”

He was in it now; might as well come clean. “I just…the longer it takes to get my Grace back, the less I feel like Michael,” he admitted quietly. Then it’d be him back to just being Dean. How the hell was he supposed to be a big brother to archangels?

Something hit him hard in the back, and he didn’t have to look to know what it was. “Hey,” he said, glaring at Sam.

Sam’s eyes flashed with Grace but it wasn’t to seek out memories from who’d last touched the key. No, it was because he was angry. “There is not, and has never been, anything wrong with ‘just Dean’,” he snapped. “Do I hate that you don’t have your Grace beside me? Yes. Will I ever be sad that you’re not the full archangel you could be? Frequently. But would I rather you be fully powered Michael over a human Dean? Never. You _are_ Michael. And even if you weren’t? You’d still be Dean.”

His lips pursed into a small line. “And Dean is more than enough. Thank you very fucking much.”

He’d definitely hit a nerve if Sam was willing to curse. “Okay, okay, I get it,” he said, waving him off. “I’m awesome. Tell the world.” He couldn’t help but feel a little warm at Sam’s insistence, though. Stubborn ass.

Sam finally let go of the scowl and gave him a grin. “Takes one to know one. And it’s no less than you’ve done for me.”

It left Dean a little off-kilter, to be the “little brother” in a sense. There was no real way to protect Sam, not like Sam could protect him. He felt unbalanced in the world’s worst way.

But…

_It’s no less than you’ve done for me._

There was something sort of humbling about the fact that Sam was protecting him, bolstering him, staying by his side because that was what he’d learned from Dean. What Lucifer had learned from Michael. It made it easier to accept, in a way.

Sam just smiled at him and Dean took a deep breath. His Grace would come back. And they’d be the damn awesome team of archangels they’d been before. For now, they’d just have to settle for being the damn awesome team of Winchesters.

“Now you’re getting it.”

“Shut up and find the bunker already.”

Sam just grinned but closed his eyes. A moment later, he began to walk towards the door, eyes still closed. Guess they’d found the right place after all.

Even as Sam moved towards it, Dean quickly caught his arm and stopped him before he could tumble down the stairs. “I wouldn’t have fallen,” Sam muttered, but he did open his eyes.

“I’m a big brother, sue me,” Dean told him. “I was pretty sure this is the service entrance to the nearby dam.”

“Pretty sure it’s not,” Sam said, and he handed over the key.

Well, if this was the bunker, then Dean had to admit, the location was ideal to keep it hidden from the general public as well as more nefarious beings. He took the key, quickly moved down the stairs, and stared. There was a single key hole beneath the handle.

Moment of truth. He placed the key inside and turned. A small amount of resistance met him before the key turned and a heavy sound filled the air. Even before he could touch the handle, the door swung open with a minimal amount of creaking. He shared a look with Sam and didn’t fight it, just stepped aside to let Sam through first. It burned every single part of him to not lead the way and protect Sam, but Sam was packing the power at the moment; if there were traps ahead, his not-so-little little brother would have the better chance of surviving them.

Something brushed against his shoulder, something he knew so well, and he gave a quick smile. Leave it to Sam to peek in on his thoughts to make sure Dean was okay. _Bitch,_ he thought as strongly as he could as he followed Sam in.

_Jerk,_ came back, faintly, nowhere near as strong as it would’ve been if Dean had had his Grace, but it was a testament to Sam’s archangel strength that it was as loud and clear as it was. Bright and strong again: Heylel at his best.

He knew the darkness wasn’t going to prove any issue for Sam but it left Dean itching for a flashlight. There was a faint smell that spoke of musty disuse, as well as a faint smell of something…cold. He heard more than saw Sam move his arm, and then there was the grinding sound of metal against metal.

Light suddenly beckoned in the darkness, and Dean realized they’d been standing in a small hallway with another door cracked open ahead of them, Sam’s hand on an impressive light switch. Dean pushed the door open and followed the light as it grew and grew, filling out a room below them.

“Woah,” Sam whispered, eyes wide, and Dean couldn’t blame him.

The room looked like a command central, a massive table of the world in the center. Along the walls were various computer pieces that reeked of the turn of the century. The walkway they stood on circled around half of the room before descending in the grandest staircase Dean had ever seen. “Think it’s still walkable?” Dean asked.

In response, Sam started down the stairs. Dean’s fingers twitched with the urge to pull him back. But his little brother made it all the way down and looked around, still looking in awe. Dean hurried after him, the stairs making a steady banging sound. The rails left dust on his hands, indicators of how long since anyone had been there.

In fact, there was dust over everything. The radar equipment held dust on the glass screens, and the map had gathered dust over what looked like small lights in the one corner. Even the tea cup, abandoned on the edge of the massive table, showed dust on the rim and gathered in the liquid inside. “Picked up and ran?” Dean surmised.

“I wouldn’t be surprised,” Sam said. “I’m sure Abaddon’s attack was quickly noted.”

“Maybe there had been a survivor, after all,” Dean noted. “That or they were able to get an SOS out before everything went down.” Either way, it was clear that Abaddon hadn’t been responsible for the abandonment of the bunker.

His eyes turned around to the darkened walls. “So where’d they keep the rare items?” he mused. “Because they’re not in here.”

Sam glanced at Dean for a minute, a small grin on his lips, and Dean just rolled his eyes. “We don’t need a massive flare of Grace,” he warned. Still, it was their best chance. And he really couldn’t deny Sam the chance to flex his wings, now that he had them back. “Go ahead.”

Grin broadening, Sam touched two fingers to the map. The lights in the corner suddenly lit up, as did the rest of the map, red lights spreading underneath the entire thing. Sam startled back, and even as Dean reached him, hand going to the piece at his own back, lights kicked on in the darker walls of the bunker. They weren’t walls, though. They were doorways.

Oh yeah. The bunker was _way_ bigger than just the control room.

“Holy _shit_ ,” Dean breathed. One way seemed to lead towards what looked like a kitchen, if the pots and pans hanging from the ceiling were any indicator. The other way, though, clearly held Sam’s attention, and Dean followed him into a library that would make Bobby drool.

A nearby sword caught Dean’s attention, and it made him grin. “Well, they definitely held rare items down here,” he said, nodding to it.

Sam frowned. “It’s a…Samurai sword?”

Oh yeah. Lucifer had been engaged down below by that point. “You know when you were down in the Cage and I’d tell you about what was going on upstairs? How we’d gifted weapons to humanity at various points to usher in peace, to protect them?” Dean asked. “That’s Raphael’s. He gave it to a kid in Japan.”

Sam’s eyes widened. “Wait. Are you saying…?”

“Pretty sure that’s Tokugawa Ieyasu’s katana, yeah,” Dean said with a grin. It hadn’t surprised Michael at all to find that Raphael’s sword had brought about peace and healing, in a way. His hand touched the blade and it hummed, just a little. This was definitely the same katana, all right.

“I can feel it now,” Sam said, shaking his head. “Only Raphael.”

“He’ll be glad to see it here,” Dean agreed. His little brother had had no clue where the sword he’d gifted humanity had gone. Now that Dean thought about it, he wasn’t sure where the sword _he’d_ given humanity was, either.

Sam glanced at him. “Pretty sure you still haven’t told me where your weapon went, now that I think about it.”

“That’s because I didn’t think about it while I was Michael, and now I have no way of finding the damn thing.”

“You could still tell me now.”

A ringing sound made them both jump, only for Dean to roll his eyes and fight not to blush because he needed to get a grip. He pulled his phone out and answered it on speaker. “Hey, Bobby.”

_“You boys find anything?”_

They grinned at each other over the phone. “You’re going to be jealous,” Sam assured him. “I’m pretty sure there’s scrolls from the Library of Alexandria in here.”

_“…Don’t do that to an old man unless you’re serious.”_

“Oh, he’s serious,” Dean told him. “There’s a sword down here that Raph gifted to humanity. And who knows what else is down the other hallways.”

_“There’s hallways?”_

Dean glanced at the doorway ahead of him. It looked like it split off into two separate directions. “Oh yeah,” Sam said. “Whatever Abaddon was after, it’s bound to be here.”

Dean began to speak, then paused, eyes caught on a photograph hanging on the wall. His silence directed Sam’s own gaze, and they stood together, eyes on the men and women in the photo. All of them smiling, gathered around one of the tables in the library they now stood in. And there, near the back, was a familiar face, grin so much like Dean’s own that his heart twisted in his chest.

_“Dean? Sam?”_

“Yeah,” Dean said roughly. “Just, uh, still trying to process how big this place has to be.”

Sam cleared his throat and turned from the photo of their grandfather. “We could be here a long time, trying to find what she was looking for. Honestly, though, I’m not sure that we need to know exactly what it is at this point. As long as this place stays on lockdown and away from Tabbris, they can’t punch any other holes into Purgatory.”

_“Spot on, Samshine.”_

Dean jumped. “Holy crap, Gabe, when did you get back to Bobby’s?”

_“He’s not,”_ Bobby said emphatically. _“Dammit Feathers, how’d you get on the line?”_

_“I’m an archangel, it’s what I do,”_ Gabriel said with clear glee in his voice. _“My ways are mystical and divine.”_

_“He dialed Bobby’s number and upon receiving the busy tone used his Grace to connect his call to yours,”_ Castiel said. From somewhere in the distance, there was the clear sound of Meg cackling.

_“Shut up, Cassie. Point being, Sam’s right. As long as we keep the bunker on lockdown, then we don’t need to worry about anyone getting into anything that’s used to open more holes into Purgatory.”_

It was a valid point. However, as much as Dean didn’t want to take inventory, there was a good reason to do it. “It’s not just punching holes through to Purgatory that I’m interested in. I want to close them up and get rid of the Leviathans for good. How much do you want to bet that there’s something here that would do it?”

_“Pretty sure you mentioned Raph’s katana.”_

Oh. _Oh_. “That would do the trick,” Dean agreed. “That’d clear a lot of Leviathans. Especially in Raphael’s hands.”

“Or another angel or human whom Raphael blessed,” Sam said. “There’s your weapon too, Dean.”

“Yeah, but I don’t know where the hell it is,” Dean said. “And I can’t exactly find it.”

_“If there’s a Michael-blessed weapon anywhere, it could be there. Have you boys started lookin’ yet?”_

“Not in depth,” Dean admitted to Bobby. “There’s going to be plenty to look through is my guess. This place is massive.” They’d be there a while, searching through things.

Sam leaned in closer to the phone. “Speaking of divine weapons: where’s yours, Gabriel?”

“Smooth,” Dean muttered with a grin.

There was a pause on the other end. _“Uh. I don’t…know, exactly.”_

That was nowhere near close to the truth, but Dean could tell when his little brother didn’t directly want to talk about things, especially with an audience. “Then get over here when you can,” Dean said. “You’d have the best chance of finding it if it’s here.”

Clear relief came through. _“You bet. For right now, we’ve got a few texts that might help with getting rid of the Leviathans in a way that doesn’t constitute the kitchen sink.”_

_“Nothin’ wrong with my kitchen sink or what’s under it,”_ Bobby muttered. _“Get off my phone call.”_

There was a loud rustling on the phone, followed with a whiny, _“Ow!”_ from Gabriel, and then it was Meg on the line. _“Where’s the King of Bitchfaces?”_

Sam chose that moment to make a bitchface of epic proportions. “I’m right here, Meg.”

_“Oh, good,”_ she said with clear amusement. _“Just wanted to make sure you hadn’t wandered into the apparent library you found and gotten lost.”_

“Did you have a point?” Sam said while rolling his eyes. “And please remember that I can smite you now.”

_“You wouldn’t make Clarence cry like that,”_ Meg said dismissively, but when she spoke next, it was with a bit more reservation. _“Listen. There’s a lot you probably don’t know, just because you were still human at the time.”_ A heavy sigh. _“Being here at your old stomping grounds reminded me that you’ve got some unfinished business.”_

Sam shook his head. “Meg, I’m not going back to college. I kind of think I’ve found my calling and it’s not being a lawyer.” Still, Dean could see that his brother was a little touched at the consideration. Even Dean was feeling a little warmer towards the demon. Whatever she and Sam had as a bond, he wasn’t going to question it.

Unless she hurt Castiel. Then he was going to question a lot of things.

_“Not that,”_ she said. Her tone was even more hesitant than before. _“Your girlfriend. Jessica. I know which demon did the hit.”_

Sam went so still Dean didn’t even think he was breathing. _“You do?”_ he heard Gabriel asked, sounding just as surprised. _“Not even I know who it was.”_

_“You wouldn’t be surprised, let’s just put it that way,”_ Meg told him. _“But I can find him, put him on ice if I can. Let’s just say that he might actually be helpful in knowing if there’s anyone else who’s going to try and make trouble. He was pretty high up the court rankings. My daddy was pretty fond of him,”_ she added bitterly.

Slowly Sam shuddered, but when he spoke, his voice was solid. “Yeah. That would be…yeah. Thank you, Meg.”

_“I can help,”_ Castiel added, but Meg immediately cut in over him.

_“This one needs less angel, more demon, Clarence. I’ll let you know when it’s time, all right? For now, stop those black goo bastards. I don’t want to be Leviathan chow.”_

That, Dean could agree with heartily. “Then if you have books to share, Gabe, bring them here. You should be able to track Lucifer’s Grace, right?”

_“When I get closer, sure. Right now, there’s a muted sort of Grace but nothing that would lead me to you. That’s got to be some impressive warding.”_

Dean didn’t doubt that at all. Still, Sam didn’t look the steadiest, and Dean knew exactly what would help. “Call us when you’re ready. Bobby, you have anything?”

_“Just us searching through our texts. Well, some of us. Rufus and Jo crashed, and I think Ellen’s secretly asleep behind that book she insisted on draggin’ out.”_ He yawned and rolled his shoulders. _“Mostly called to see if you two’d found what you were lookin’ for.”_

And had wanted to make sure they were okay. Dean grinned and even Sam smiled. “We’re all good,” Dean promised. “We’ll make sure the coast is completely clear here and then haul you over so you can drool alongside Sam. Get some sleep in the meanwhile.”

_“That’s what Sidria keeps tellin’ me,”_ Bobby grumbled, but the line went dead a moment later.

That left Dean with only one thing to worry about. “You okay?” he asked quietly.

Sam nodded jerkily, but he definitely looked rattled. “Sam,” Dean pushed, and Sam sighed.

“Is it wrong of me that I never once considered finding out who actually killed her? I have my Grace and I could go see her in Heaven and ask.” He froze. “Dean, we could’ve gone to see—”

Mom and Dad. Dean shut his eyes tight. “Later, okay?” he said, waving Sam off. “When everything’s settled and there’s no chance of their souls being used as collateral, all right? The last thing anyone in Heaven needs to know is that there are souls to bargain with. We’ve got enough going on with the people living down here.” Besides, it wasn’t like they were supposed to be dropping in on human souls.

Sam nodded tightly and squared his shoulders. “No, you’re right. I know you’re right.”

Dean watched him for a moment more, trying to evaluate his little brother. Determined, sure, but also still upset and trying to hide it in the face of getting things done. “This isn’t you forgetting her,” Dean said quietly, catching Sam’s attention. “Or betraying her. Or, or not loving her enough. Got it?”

The firm shoulders slumped a little. This time, there was honest and open grief on Sam’s face, but also some relief there, too. “Got it,” Sam said softly. “Thanks, big brother.”

Dean caught his arm and hauled him in for a one-sided hug. He’d hug Meg too, honestly, if he could, because what she was offering wasn’t for a bargain or a favor. It was being done…just because. Though he had to guess it had something to do with wanting to impress Castiel.

Whatever. He was fine with that. Because this might offer Sam some peace to a wound that had mostly healed but still clearly lingered.

“So,” Dean said, and he clapped his hands together. “Let’s see what else we can find down here. There’s got to be plenty of cool things for you to geek out over.”

With a huff of laughter Sam nodded towards the hallways. “Want to lead?”

“Nah,” Dean said with a quick grin. “You go first, oh King of Bitchfaces.”

“I’m going to make her pay for that one,” Sam said with a scowl, and they headed further into the bunker.

“Do you want to go get—”

“No, I need to do this now. There’s time to get Evangeline later. In fact, if this works, I’m heading to Heaven to produce a lot of it and shouldn’t need her at all.”

Raphael watched Anael nod eagerly, like she wasn’t even hearing what he was saying. Not that he could blame her. This was their chance to finally make the banishment sigil null and void. This was their chance to stay in the fight whenever someone wanted them out.

Raphael started throwing things together as quickly as he could. _Easy, easy!_ Toni warned him. _You’re going to break something! Didn’t anyone ever tell you slow and steady wins the race?_

“I don’t need to win a race,” Raphael muttered. “I need to keep the people I love safe.”

_That’s not…never mind. Gabriel’s right, you need a serious education in all things modern. Or, in this instance, probably the last few hundred years._

“Toni, if I get this right, then I can let you go home for a bit,” he promised. “I’ve already kept you longer than I would’ve liked. Surely your job—”

_I’m not worried about that. This is a little bit bigger than that. Besides, I’m on a rotational week off, and I’d asked for a few days off before that. You’ve got two more days before I genuinely need to be back at work._

Had it truly been such a short period of time? So much had happened and Raphael constantly lost track of the days on Earth. Toni deserved a break. One well and truly her own. “I will get you the rest you deserve,” he promised.

_Just drop me in the Bahamas with some cash and I’m good._

His lips turned up, and then he turned back to the spell. It didn’t take long to put in everything that he needed before he paused. This was where they’d left off. This was where they’d nearly had it.

Slowly he pulled the vial out. The Leviathan blood hung against the glass, all but oozing as he tilted it to one side. Perfectly sticky, able to bind together both body, soul, and Grace. Without ceremony he allowed the contents to slide into bowl.

There were no fireworks, nothing but a slow sloshing of all the ingredients as they mixed together. In the end, the goo left behind was a purple-ish color, and it looked promising. He turned to Anael, only to find her Grace all but vibrating in excitement. “You didn’t look this excited last time,” Raphael teased.

“We weren’t really going to get it last time and we knew it,” Anael said. “This time, I can feel it. Give it here.”

Raphael quickly brought the bowl over and started drawing the counter-sigil. Arm, forehead, right above the heart. The goo held and even sparkled a bit in the growing sunrise. In a little while, animals would be waking and beginning their trek across the plains for food. Families were stirring while other families were just starting to sleep. It was, Raphael thought, the closest to the divine that people could see and experience with their own eyes.

Father hadn’t done everything wrong. And what he had done wrong, Raphael was determined to right.

He went to a nearby stone and created the banishment sigil. Hand at the ready, he turned to Anael. “Ready?”

Anael rolled her wings back behind her, eyes bright. “More than.”

Raphael took a deep breath and then placed his hand on the banishment sigil. It lit up, brightening the area around them.

When the light cleared, Raphael stared. Anael was exactly where she’d been before, and she was grinning from ear to ear. “Anything?” Raphael had to ask.

“Nothing,” she said. The goo was gone, but there were traces left. She wouldn’t need another dose because it had already been pulled into her very being. And none of that mattered in the slightest, he was letting himself get distracted, because this—

This was it. He’d done it.

With a shriek of joy he let himself burst into the air, spinning around and around. Anael flew up beside him and grabbed hold of him, spinning with him, the two of them laughing like fools. Any bison looking their way were going to be nothing short of bewildered but Raphael didn’t care.

He settled back down, beaming at Anael. “We need more Leviathan blood,” he told her.

“Yes, yes we do. And I bet I know exactly where to get some. Hopefully before they burn it all.”

“Back to Robert’s?”

Anael held out her arm, allowing Raphael to link his with her. “Let’s.”

With a snap of his fingers their ingredients were sent back to the front porch of Robert’s to wait for them. Still grinning, they took off together.

Finally, Raphael could help keep his siblings safe.


	18. Chapter 18

“Did you see this?” A second later, another gasp echoed in the room. “Holy crap, did you see _this_?”

Dean just stayed where he was, leaning back against the table, arms crossed, lips turned up in serious amusement. Sam was like a kid with a sugar rush, darting from one side of the room to the next, examining all the items contained on the shelves. And he should know: he remembered little Sam on a sugar rush. The kid had been unstoppable.

Much like Lucifer after a flight to the outer reaches of a singular galaxy. Every other angel would’ve been exhausted from the trip: Lucifer had only ever been exhilarated.

_“It was beautiful, Michael, the worlds yet untouched by the creatures we’re watching over, the way the stars feel against your wings, the way you can soar so much faster and float—”_

_“I have done it before, you know,” Michael told him wryly. Lucifer fell back against the nearby tree with a happy sigh. “In fact, I believe I am the one who told you about it.”_

_“Then you should’ve gone with me,” Lucifer said with a grin. “You’re too stuck on doing what Father tells you to do all the time.”_

_“Next time, I should do what my little brother tells me to do?”_

_“I sincerely hope in your next life that you are more carefree and fun.”_

Well, Dean figured that he was as far from a stick in the mud as he could get.

Sam let out an awed gasp. “Dean! _Dean_! Do you have any idea what this is?!” He glanced up at Dean, then looked absolutely confused when he saw Dean just sitting there with a smirk on his face. “What?” he asked.

Dean snorted. “Don’t ever change, kiddo.”

A loud clanging sound made them both tense, but then Sam relaxed. “Gabe?” Dean asked.

“And Cas, and Raph,” Sam said. He paused, a small, bewildered grin growing on his face, like he couldn’t help it. “And Raphael is… _excited_.”

Well that warranted checking out. “C’mon, you can tell them everything you’ve found, Indiana Jones,” Dean said. “Wait, no, I need something nerdier than that. Indiana is too cool for you.”

“Bite me,” Sam said, heading for the hallway.

They walked into the library just in time to see the three angels descend the stairway. “Holy cannoli,” Gabriel said with a low whistle. “This place is like porn for nerds.”

“Gabriel,” Raphael admonished, but his eyes were also drawn all over the place. When they landed on the katana, they widened in shock. “That’s—”

“Yup,” Dean said, letting the ‘p’ pop. “All yours again. We think it might help maybe take the Leviathans out. Yours could help, too,” he added, glancing at Gabriel.

Amusingly, Gabriel flushed. “Uh, no, it really can’t.”

“What _was_ your weapon?” Castiel asked curiously. “You were intentionally vague with Meg around.”

“Gee, I wonder why,” Gabriel drawled, but the red in his cheeks stayed. “It’s, uh.” He glanced at Sam, oddly enough, and the flush got darker. “It’s called Lævateinn. It got stolen, so I don’t know where—”

Sam’s eyes widened in sudden realization. “Wait, so it’s—”

“Yes, it is, okay?” Gabriel said, muttering something uncomplimentary under his breath. “Dammit, I _knew_ you’d know.”

Incredibly, Sam started to laugh, chuckles growing into full belly laughs that had him bent over. Gabriel’s face kept getting redder and redder. “Okay, c’mon, what is it?” Dean protested. “It’s not fair that he knows and I don’t.”

Gabriel crossed his arms. “It’s a magical weapon used to vanquish foes—”

“It’s a _twig_ ,” Sam howled. Gabriel glared and sullenly crossed his arms, which, honestly, just lent credence to Sam being right. Dean found his lips turning up.

“I prefer the term ‘magic wand’. And _no_ , not that kind either, Dean. Why am I the responsible one here all of a sudden?”

It now made ten times more sense as to why Gabriel had been loath to admit what the weapon was. “We talking Harry Potter level of wand?” Dean asked, trying to be serious, but Sam’s laughs were infectious, and the grin wouldn’t stay down.

“I hate all of you,” Gabriel growled. “It’s not a blade, so no lopping of heads off.”

Even Castiel was smiling, clearly enjoying Gabriel’s grumbling. Raphael cleared his throat just as Sam started trying to settle down. “I’m sure it would still be incredibly helpful, or at least good to see it back in capable hands. I know I’ve often wondered where my weapon here has gone.”

Sam took one last breath and let it out, but the grin still remained. “Wait, so seeing the katana wasn’t what’s got you all excited?”

“He won’t tell us,” Castiel said. “Just that something’s happened.”

Raphael just smiled. “I’ll tell you all in a moment. Have you found anything here?”

Dean just waited. He wasn’t disappointed. Sam’s eyes lit up with pure joy. “You wouldn’t believe what they have back there in those rooms. Things that have been lost to history, things I thought were just myth, there’s scrolls dating back to—”

“Oh Dad above,” Gabriel muttered. “This _is_ porn for nerds.”

“As if we anticipated anything different,” Castiel said with a small grin. Sam finally seemed to realize that they were referring to him and glared at them.

“This place is incredible and possibly has everything that we need.”

“I had no clue from your lack of enthusiasm,” Raphael said with a straight face, making Dean’s smirk broaden. Every now and then, Raph could come through with the straight man.

Sam just sighed. “Fine, you can all make fun of me, I deserve it. Raphael, what’s your news?”

“Yes, Raphael, what is your news?”

Dean’s hand immediately went to his gun at the unexpected voice heralding from the top of the stairs. All of the angels turned, their wings probably bristling and ready to fight if their stances were anything to go by.

But the soft voice didn’t seem at all perturbed by the unwelcome greeting. In fact, she didn’t even seem to notice it. “You seemed so bright,” she said, making her way down the stairs. “I have to assume it’s good news, something we could certainly use in these times.”

“ _Anna_?” Dean said, stunned. His gun came down slightly when she graced him with a smile.

“Hello, Dean.” She paused, her gaze moving from him to Sam. “So it’s true, then. Lucifer has returned to us.”

“Anna?”

She glanced briefly at Castiel, then back at Sam. “Hello Raphael, Gabriel. Hello, Castiel.”

“Holy hell, where have you _been_?” Gabriel exclaimed. “I heard you’d been found thanks to Dean-o here—and found in a way I didn’t need to know about, thanks—”

“ _Gabe_.”

“But still, you couldn’t come say hi? The sky’s falling but I’m here to help? And how did you find us, anyway?”

Anna just tilted her head to the side. Dean suddenly found he didn’t like the way she was looking at Sam. “Anna,” Sam greeted cordially, but he was clearly watching her just as intently. “I’d like Gabriel’s question answered: how _did_ you find us?”

“There was a sudden burst of angelic Grace near Abaddon’s death place. How are you?” Anna asked, and her tone just felt…off. Nowhere close to the warm woman or angel she’d been when they’d first met.

Screw this. “Cut the crap,” Dean snapped, stepping in front of Sam. “Anna, what’s going on?”

“This,” she said, nodding towards Sam. “Lucifer has been remade, the song continues to ring through the Host. The Devil has been reborn.”

Sam went so still Dean wasn’t sure he was breathing. “Would you like to try that again?” Raphael said, eyes flashing blue as a warning. “Heylel is no devil.”

“The Devil will take the throne of Hell and open wide the maw that will devour the earth and all its people,” Anna said, as if quoting something, and Dean suddenly realized what was so off. Why she sounded so wrong.

_Lucifer, Gabriel, Raphael, she’s been reeducated, this isn’t Anna._

At his prayer, all three archangels tensed. Castiel hadn’t heard the direct prayer but waited, clearly ready to act when needed. As if completely unsurprised, Anna slid her blade into her hand, ready to do battle. “I cannot allow it to happen,” she said. “You have to understand that.”

She did glance at Dean then, and there was what almost looked like genuine remorse there. “I’m sorry, Dean,” she said, and then she dove at Sam.

Sam immediately threw Dean to the side into Castiel’s waiting embrace before dodging Anna effortlessly, his own blade up. He immediately flew further off to the side, far from Dean and the others. “Come on, Anna,” he said, an almost cruel smile on his face. “Come stop me, then. Kick my ass.”

With a cry Anna pivoted and headed straight towards him. He danced away again, but he kept dodging, his blade doing nothing. _Luce, what the hell are you doing?_ Dean prayed desperately, because there had to be a plan, there had to be. Sam was all but taunting her, coming closer to her blade than Dean wanted him to be, acting almost reckless. It made Dean want to deck him for being so careless as her blade swung closer and closer. How many times did he have to tell the kid to stop being so willing to sacrifice himself? First the Leviathan nearly killing him, and now this?

It made Dean want to shove him behind him and take Anna on with his own blade and Grace.

Thankfully, Raphael and Gabriel were already ahead of him, slowly moving behind Anna, stalking her. Sam kept dodging her, taunting her with his smirk and arms spread out to the side, but Dean could see now the calculated steps he was making. He kept her back to Raphael and Gabriel, easily distracting her from the others. Her focus was completely locked on him, and it made it all the more obvious that she was reeducated. It was so much like Raphael, focused on a single task, that Dean wondered if maybe she hadn’t been reeducated _before_ she’d Fallen. If maybe her Falling had saved her, in a way.

Whatever, there was time for that later. Not while his little brother was getting dangerously close to Anna’s blade. Sam’s refusal to engage her was clearly pissing her off, and her swings were getting wilder. _Raph, Gabe, take her out of the picture already!_ he prayed fervently.

Gabriel bolted forward. His speed caught Anna off-guard, giving him plenty of leverage to wrench the blade from her hand. Anna gave a cry of frustration and pulled her wings back to dive at Sam. Raphael got a hand on one wing while Sam suddenly changed direction, smirk fading into serious earnestness while he caught her other wing. Even as Dean realized that he could _see_ their wings, they faded from view again.

“C’mon,” he growled. “Show up and _stay_ up.” Damn the Grace for disappearing _again_.

“No!” Anna shouted. “ _No_! I won’t let the Devil undo the magnificent splendor of Heaven!”

“That’s the farthest thing from what he wants, believe me,” Sam grunted. “Gabe—”

“I got her,” and in an instant, Gabriel had his hands on either side of her head. “Hold on for me, kiddo. It’ll be all right.”

Anna’s eyes went wide. “No! Wait, _don’t_ —”

Light flashed and Dean was forced to turn away. When he turned back, Anna had slumped into Raphael and Sam’s grasp. “Sam?” Dean asked, unable to help himself.

“I’m all right,” Sam promised. The sneer was gone, and it was just Sam again, worriedly looking Anna over as they set her on the ground. “Gabriel, is she okay?”

“She’s fine,” Gabriel said, pursing his lips. “It’s you I’m worried about.”

“She didn’t touch me—”

“That’s not the _point_ , Lucifer.”

Oh good, at least someone was feeling the same irritation and anxiety that Dean currently had coursing through his system. At the moment, it was starting to feel like it was going to come out like a punch and, unfortunately for Sam, it was probably going to find a home against his little brother’s face.

Sam looked bewildered. “What? Why am I getting punched?”

Guess he’d been thinking pretty loudly. “I don’t know, because you kept taunting her and pulling her away,” Dean said exasperatedly. “Because you kept putting yourself in danger, _again_?”

“I could do with less of it myself,” Castiel said. “I know I keep saying that but until someone listens to me, I’m going to continue saying it. Sam, you do _not_ have to play bait all the time.”

Raphael quickly cut in before Gabriel could speak. “They’re all valid points, but Lucifer has one, too.”

“Which is?” Gabriel asked sharply.

“That in a situation like this, someone is always going to have to play bait. Given that it was Lucifer she was after, and he was capable of defending himself, it made all the sense in the world for it to be him.” Raphael gave Sam a sideways glance. “As much as I don’t like it, the point still stands.”

It felt like a cop-out, siding with Sam when his brother kept putting himself in the line of fire again and again and again. Still, sometimes it had to happen, and that, Dean couldn’t deny. Wouldn’t deny, when Sam’s face kept betraying the hurt and self-doubt that was growing by the moment. “Fine,” Dean said. “But the next crazy person who comes looking for someone to kill, make sure that someone is me.”

Sam’s shoulders dropped a good inch, and his smile was all relief. “Yeah, okay,” he said. “Next person with murderous intent goes to you. I’d hate to hog them all.”

“I could do without you in danger, either,” Castiel muttered, glaring at Dean.

Dean just gave him a look. “Same to you, Sparky.”

“I don’t spark. Nor do I sparkle, despite what Meg says.”

That, that was something Dean didn’t need to know more about. “Let’s keep it that way.”

“So.”

Dean glanced over and found Gabriel watching Anna. “Since I think she’s back to normal, or as normal as any angel gets, now what?”

It was a fair question. “Michael?” Raphael asked, then paused.

Screw it. Grace or not, he was their big brother. That meant stepping in with help when he was needed. “I hate being a broken record, but Bobby’s might be a good place to hold her, down in the panic room with Naomi.”

“I’d be interested to hear them chat with each other,” Sam said suddenly, his eyes flashing red.

Dean grinned. “Just what I was thinking.”

Whatever Anna was involved in had to have come from Tabbris. And if Anna could give them a location as to where he’d been last, there could be something there to lead them to the angel, his compatriots, or whatever he intended on doing with the Leviathans.

“This sort of makes my news less celebratory.”

Dean turned to Raphael who stood, eyes on Anna. “Tell us,” Gabriel said. “C’mon, I want real good news.”

Raphael gave him a fond smile. “The Leviathan goo worked perfectly, just as Anael and I had wanted it to. Now we have a spell to counteract the effects of the banishing sigil.”

Wait. _Wait_. “You mean,” Sam began, eyes just as wide as Gabriel’s, and Raphael nodded.

“I mean that the banishing sigil will never cast out an angel who’s received the counter spell.”

“Holy shit,” Gabriel breathed. Something that felt a lot like hope coursed through Dean. Finally, they could stop being tossed away from each other with a simple blood sigil. _Finally_.

He moved over and rested a hand on Raphael’s shoulders. “You did good, Raphael,” he said, and watched Raphael nearly burst with pride.

“Really good,” Sam agreed. “How does it work?”

“We need more Leviathan blood. Anael is gathering more and will follow me,” Raphael said. “I don’t have enough of the other ingredients here right now. I’ll need to go to Heaven to put it all together, and then I’ll come back down to help.”

Oh hell no. “You’re not going up there by yourself,” Dean said firmly. “Especially with Anna and who knows how many others ready to take you out.”

“Which is why I’ve already informed Hannah and Nathaniel,” Raphael told him with a soft smile. “Trust me, Michael, I have taken all of the necessary precautions. I also have questions for the other angels if they’ve seen Anna recently. If they have—”

“Then she got her orders straight from Heaven, literally,” Gabriel finished. “Fine, I’ll come with you.”

Raphael immediately shook his head. “No. I’m safe, if I had to hazard a guess. It’s not me they’re after.” He glanced at Sam, making a face. “You’re all better off down here with him. I’ll leave once Anael gets here. Which,” and he glanced towards the door, “I think has just happened.”

“Let’s get Anna locked down, then,” Gabriel said. “I should’ve figured they were watching Abaddon and would’ve put two and two together.”

“Hey,” Sam said sharply, and Dean could imagine him putting his wing around Gabriel. “This wasn’t your fault. We weren’t as careful as we could’ve been. We’ll take more precautions going forward for everyone.” He paused, lips turning up. “Maybe we really do need that magic wand of yours.”

Gabriel just rolled his eyes. “You get one more poking at it and that’s it. Then I start getting creative.”

The door above opened, revealing Anael with a surprise guest. “Zeke too?” Dean asked, frowning. “Who’s with Bobby and everyone else?”

“Sidria has stayed behind,” Ezekiel said. He sounded put-out. “I was, um. Told to go take a break by Ellen.”

Guess Ellen had gotten protective after all. Dean snorted. “Give her time. She likes you, but she likes Jo more.”

“As she should,” Ezekiel said, and with an attitude like that, Ellen wasn’t going to fuss about her baby being with an angel for very long. Not with one who clearly adored Jo, would go to great lengths to protect her, and wasn’t intending on trying to divide a family. He’d be adopted before the year was out if Dean had to guess.

“Ten dollars on that,” Sam muttered, and Dean just gave him a fist-bump.

When Anael and Ezekiel stopped at the bottom of the stairs, staring at Anna in bewilderment, Dean just sighed. “Any ideas on how to keep her locked up? Preferably for long enough that I can actually sleep?”


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd like everyone to remember the tags for this chapter; some of them will apply here.
> 
> For the record, I'm sorry.

It turned out, unsurprisingly, that they didn’t have many options. In a heavily warded bunker, with no idea which items held magic and which ones didn’t, they had to rely on their own standby: rope and Gabriel’s magic. If he snapped his fingers a little extra viciously, well, the trickster part of him didn’t mind. Especially since she’d come after _his_ big brother.

Raphael departed as soon as she was secured, leaving Anael and Ezekiel to get caught up on what all had happened. “How long will she be out?” Anael finally asked some time later. “Her Grace is…in tumult. But a quiet tumult, if that makes sense.”

“Was she…reeducated?” Ezekiel asked hesitantly. He watched her with clear sympathy. “It would make sense if she was.”

“She was,” Gabriel told him. “I think I’ve got all the goop out of her Grace now, but we’ll know when she wakes up.” He was looking forward to that conversation. “As far as when she’ll wake up, we should have at least twelve hours, give or take. I put her pretty far under. And I can keep putting her under if we need to in order to let us rest.”

His eyes went to Dean who was snoozing on a nearby sofa. Sam had pulled his own coat off and laid it over him and was now perusing the nearby shelves. Castiel had joined him, the geeky little pair, and they wandered the titles side by side.

Anael and Ezekiel seemed content to sit alongside Gabriel at one of the tables in the room. They appeared at rest, but one look at their Graces spoke volumes. “You two okay?” Gabriel asked quietly.

Anael gave a sheepish smile. “Is it that obvious?”

“That you’re both exhausted? Yeah. I can see it.”

“I don’t think…I’ve ever been in a vessel this long,” Ezekiel admitted. “I mean, even though mine is, well, mine now, since Stephen has gone on to Heaven for his well-deserved rest and peace, it’s still heavy in a way I didn’t expect.” He made a face. “Is this what it feels like, to be human?”

How the heck did Gabriel keep getting these hard conversations? “From everything I can gather,” Gabriel said. “But they keep it afloat with the light of their souls. It keeps them going.” Then, softer, he added, “You’ll get used to it. You’ll have to, if you intend on staying with Jo while she’s down here.”

Ezekiel frowned. “I’ll be able to see her when she’s in her Heaven.”

From off to the side, Gabriel watched Sam flinch. Yeah, he’d figured his big brother was eavesdropping. “Uh, not really,” Gabriel said reluctantly.

The frown only deepened. “What do you mean? I go to see Stephen from time to time to check on him.”

“That’s different,” Gabriel said. “You have a connection to your vessel. It’s not…”

Fortunately, Anael came to the rescue. “We’re not supposed to drop in on the Heavens of the Heavenly-bound souls. Something about weakening the boundaries between their Heaven and ours.”

It sucked out loud, being the responsible one. Because it meant that Gabriel had to watch Ezekiel’s face go through confusion to realization to denial. “She’s not going anywhere anytime soon,” Gabriel assured him. “Trust me.” He’d personally remove body parts from the being who dared try to come for the Harvelles or Singer. Hell, even Turner; the man enjoyed a good whiskey and had no problem keeping up with angels who could drink him under the table.

He left Ezekiel to ponder that for a bit and went over to check on Anna. Still out for the count, some good long hours later. So was Dean, if his breathing was anything to go by. A nightmare began to brew and Gabriel sent it flying with a brush of his Grace. Not tonight. Not when his big brother desperately needed some rest.

His other big brother needed some rest, too, but he wasn’t going to slow down anytime soon. Not when his gaze kept moving from those at the table to Anna, table, Anna, table, Anna. _Ease off, Luce,_ Gabriel shot at him. _We’re all fine._

_We almost weren’t,_ Sam sent flying back. _They sent her for a reason, Gabriel. It could’ve been Tabbris down here instead of Anna but it wasn’t. Why not?_

Oh dammit, that wasn’t a question he’d even considered. “Fuck,” he muttered under his breath. He needed a nap too, now, and preferably a lot of naked people alongside him. An orgy was just about the level he was going to need in order to keep himself settled.

He let the idea chew at him for a while as he moved between the titles and let his Grace push at the wardings, just to see if they’d hold. Whatever magic they had, it was damn powerful, and every now and then his pushing made runes flash on the walls. Maybe they ought to drag Naomi here instead.

No, they didn’t have the bunker sorted enough to safely trust it. They’d do more exploring later. Not now. For now, the library would keep them all safe and let the two younger angels rest and his big brother sleep and his other big brother—

_Woah_. That was a hell of a whirling storm that had brewed when he hadn’t looked. “Samshine? What’s wrong?”

As if he’d called Dean’s name instead of Sam’s, Dean immediately shot up. “M’awake,” he said, rubbing his face. “What’s going on?”

“Go back to sleep,” Sam said tensely. He began to pace along the library wall, back and forth, back and forth. His mind spun like a top, rolling around and around.

“Uh, no,” Dean said, drawing out the ‘oh’ like Sam was an idiot. “Not when you’re clearly not okay. What the hell happened?”

“Don’t ask me,” Gabriel protested. “He was looking at books. Proving once and for all that Sam and books are a dangerous mix.” He paused, trying to parse out Sam’s thoughts. What about the Devil? “Is this about what Anna said?”

“It wasn’t true,” Castiel said, scowling at Sam. “You are not the Devil.”

“None of us think that,” Anael added with Ezekiel’s firm nod. “We know you, Lucifer. You are Heylel, now more than ever. And even back then, back before you Fell, you were poisoned.”

This was usually the part where Sam melted like chocolate in the sun, put on his puppy eyes for good measure, and settled down. He wasn’t settling down. He wasn’t melting.

No, he was still going like a damn hurricane. Sam kept pacing, and Gabriel couldn’t believe what a hard time he was having keeping up with his brother’s mind. Good grief, how fast could Sam go? “Okay, ow, slow down,” he complained. “You’re making me hurt. Watching you think is like being spun around on a roller coaster.”

“It’s a little alarming,” Ezekiel agreed, looking ill. Anael looked dizzy but a bit awed, because of course she was.

“First time I’ve actually been grateful to not have my Grace,” Dean muttered. “At least I’m missing the light show that is his brain and Grace. Spit it out, Sam. What’s got you twisted up?”

“Why was Lucifer considered the Devil?” Sam asked suddenly, stopping mid-pace to face them. It was nowhere near any of the thoughts that he’d had, so Gabriel found himself almost staggering backwards, trying to play catch up.

Castiel was the first to answer. “Lucifer…led angels astray. Against Heaven. But we know that that’s not true—”

“I’m not here to debate what people think of me,” Sam said, waving Castiel off. “I know my part in what happened.”

“Because of the Mark,” Dean pointed out, and Gabriel gave an emphatic nod.

The grin he got from Sam was all fond annoyance, but Gabriel could see the soul and Grace inside warm at the dedication. One of these days, Samshine was going to actually _believe_ them. “Yes, the Mark. What else defined me as the Devil?”

“You rebelled,” Ezekiel summed up. “You Fell and the other angels Fell with you.”

“Yeah, but I didn’t Fall in the traditional sense. I got locked away.” Sam swallowed hard but kept going, and the amount of pride Gabriel felt in his big brother was almost as much as Dean’s, if the flare from Dean’s soul was any indication. “Point is, that’s what defined me as the Devil, right? I did evil things against Heaven, lots of angels rebelled in my name.”

“Yada, yada, yada,” and Gabriel mimed a yawn. “None of it’s true, though.”

“That’s not the point.” There went the maelstrom of thoughts again. “It was supposedly enough to crown me King of Hell, right? With a bunch of Fallen angels behind me, I was supposed to rule Hell, correct?”

Anael hesitantly raised her hand. Gabriel managed to contain his snort but Dean didn’t. “I mean, not that you’re wrong, but I just don’t understand. What does this mean for what’s going on in Heaven?”

Sam just glanced at Gabriel, and suddenly it was like the clouds of a storm clearing to let the sunlight straight in. Right there was the nucleus of Sam’s thoughts, and Gabriel felt his stomach sink. “Oh, fuck,” he muttered.

“What?” Ezekiel asked, frowning, clearly trying to glean some of Sam’s thoughts. “What about Naomi or Tabbris?”

Dean shut his eyes tight as he figured it out. “Oh _fuck_.”

At least Anael was going pale again. “You mean—”

Sam’s face was grim. “If we don’t squash this rebellion and fast? Yeah. We could see a new Devil. One that’s not going to be locked away in a Cage. One that’s going to try and take Hell for his own.”

“And one that apparently doesn’t need a Mark to turn away from Heaven,” Gabriel felt like pointing out. “You were under the world’s worst influence and still managed to keep it together enough to ask Michael for help. They’re doing it just because. That sorta speaks volumes here.”

“Never mind what Abaddon was up to,” Castiel added. “If she truly was working with Tabbris or Naomi…”

They could have an apocalypse all over again. Gabriel sort of wished he’d started the conversation with that whiskey.

“That’s what Anna meant,” Dean said. “When she started quoting about the Devil. Not only did you _not_ kill me or try to fight me—”

“But I didn’t take over Hell, either,” Sam finished. Suddenly Gabriel watched everything unfold through Sam’s thoughts.

_I was supposed to be on the throne but I wasn’t so Crowley took the throne which meant Asmodeus was pulled up but Asmodeus and the others didn’t want the throne they wanted me in charge so Abaddon came forward and now that Crowley’s still on the throne they need a new Devil to take charge the plan was always to take Hell but why why why the Leviathans what do they do are they just there to clear Hell or Earth or both and what’s to stop them from clearing Heaven or is that part of the plan_

“Do you ever get tired?” Gabriel asked, wincing. “That is just…a lot of heavy thinking without a lot of heavy drinking.”

“All I hear is buzzing,” Ezekiel admitted. Anael looked dizzy.

“It makes sense, though,” Castiel said. “I didn’t catch all of it but enough. They want Hell. Everything they’ve done has been to claim Hell under Heaven’s banner. When you put Crowley on the throne, you threw everything off.”

“Then they can come after me for that,” Dean snapped. “Because I’m the one who did that, not Sam.”

Gabriel let out a deep breath. “I don’t think they give a rat’s ass about that at this point, Dean. Heaven doesn’t just want Heaven, or Earth. Heaven wants all three pieces of the pie.” It was unification in all its glory, the ultimate unification. Metatron’s glorious plan to rule not one, not two, but all three main realms.

Sam nodded slowly. “Yeah, that’s what I’m figuring. When Dean and I didn’t fall into line, when I didn’t die or take the throne of Hell, we threw it all up in the air. I still don’t understand what purpose the Leviathans were meant to hold, though.”

Dean crossed his arms. “As far as I’m concerned, I don’t need to know what purpose they hold. I just want them gone. We got a way of doing that yet?”

“I don’t know, but we’ll find out,” Ezekiel promised. “We need to check on Raphael anyway.”

“Please,” Sam agreed. “See how he’s doing. I don’t like him up in Heaven on his own. I know he’s with Hannah and Nathaniel, but it’s still dangerous.”

Neither did Gabriel, but it was more suspicious if the archangels weren’t making some sort of appearance in Heaven. And Raphael needed to work on the anti-banishment spell in the place with as much power as he could pull together.

“What about Bobby?” Dean asked. “Drop me with him and bring Anna along for the ride.”

Might as well. Her ass belonged on lockdown at this point until they knew how reeducated she’d been. “Piece of cake,” Gabriel said and wished it was true.

Sam gave him a resigned grin, and it helped, a little. Okay, it helped a lot that Sam knew, that Sam got it, that he was there with his stupid shiny wings and his stupidly bright Grace. He had Lucifer back, and Gabriel was going to keep him, whirling brain and all.

He wasn’t going to look at Dean. Wasn’t. But he’d get him back, too.

“Time to depart?” Gabriel asked.

“We’ll take Anna back with us,” Sam said. “Zeke, you go with Gabe and Cas to check on Raphael. No one goes anywhere without backup at this point.”

_Not losing you either, little one._

Gabriel gave a quick grin. Fair enough. “We’ll drop Anna at Bobby’s and then head on up. Send a prayer if you need us sooner.”

He had to admit, though, as they gathered themselves up and got ready to fly out, that the bunker was pretty neat.

This would work. This would be part of the future where his brothers weren’t being hunted down and the world was safe. Yeah, Gabriel liked that one. He liked it a lot.

As soon as they landed in the basement of Bobby’s house, Gabriel gave a brief nod and headed off again. Castiel muttered something about the fastest needing to wait but diligently took off after.

In an instant they had a flash of blonde aimed straight at them. Ezekiel quickly caught Jo in his arms, eyes shut tight. His Grace was far more anxious and wound up than he looked at the moment, but he was doing a good job keeping it together, Sam thought.

“My mom scared you off, didn’t she,” Jo said when they stepped back from each other.

Sam grinned. “I took her request seriously,” Ezekiel admitted, then paused. “I need to go help Castiel and Gabriel. Are you all right?”

“Yes, just go already.” After a moment, she leaned up and planted one on him, clearly startling Ezekiel. “I’ll be here when you guys get back.”

Oh wow, his Grace was a light show. “Honestly,” Anael muttered, but even she was smiling. “Go already, Ezekiel.”

Ezekiel swatted a wing at her and took off. Sam couldn’t help the snort, even as they turned towards the closed door of the panic room. Despite the thoughts from earlier, he actually felt…okay. Maybe some of it was just finally sinking in, that it wasn’t his fault. Maybe it had been Gabriel’s infectious positivity and Dean’s stalwart determination to move forward. Whatever it was, though, the sight of the panic room door being opened didn’t so much as cause him a twinge of, well, panic.

Until Dean’s face went pale. “What’s wrong?” Sam asked immediately. “Dean?”

“Naomi’s gone,” he said, bewildered. “What the hell?”

_Sidria, where is Naomi?_ Sam immediately sent out. _We’re here with Anna. Where are you?_

He realized now, reaching throughout the house, that he couldn’t sense another Grace except himself and Anael and the still unconscious Anna. Sidria had vanished, too.

“Bobby?” Dean shouted up the stairs. There was startled cursing from above, which let Sam’s heart rate come down a little bit. So he was still here.

“Maybe she took Naomi for a walk?” Anael asked weakly.

Thumping down the stairs revealed Bobby. “The hell are you all down here for?” he asked incredulously. “I thought you were waitin’ on Sid, Ellen, and Rufus.”

Wait, what? “What do you mean, waiting?” Sam demanded. “We were bringing Anna back here.”

Bobby’s face twisted in confusion. “No,” he said slowly. “You called. Told Ellen to bring Naomi to the bunker, that there were better wards in place to protect her. Sidria said she’d tag along, as did Rufus.”

Forget bewildered, Sam was bordering on full-out panic. _Sidria, answer me now, where are you?!_

_We’re almost there,_ Sidria sent back.

_To where?_

_The meeting place, at the Nebraska border,_ Sidria said impatiently. _I couldn’t fly with Naomi on my own so we’re driving, and it takes far longer—_

_Get back here **now**._

“Dammit the hell,” Dean bit out.

“I’m callin’ Ellen,” Bobby said, already pulling out his cell phone. Even as he began dialing, however, the last piece tumbled into place.

No. _No_.

“She wasn’t just there for me,” Sam said faintly. Dean and Jo both turned, Jo’s face as anxious as he’d ever seen her. “Anna, she had a task, but it wasn’t just to kill me.”

Dean’s eyes widened. “She was bait. She was a trap.”

“Ellen’s not answerin’,” Bobby said tersely. “Somewhere on the Nebraska border, I don’t know where.”

_Lucifer—!_

Lucifer didn’t think, he just gathered his wings and flew. A hand grabbed hold of him and he instinctively clutched back as he flew through the air. There, a bright gathering of Graces, not too far away, on what looked like an empty road in the Nebraska plains. He pulled his wings tighter and took off for the lights.

That wasn’t just Sidria and Naomi. There were far more Graces than that.

When he landed, Lucifer realized the hand who had grabbed him belonged to Jo. “Mom!” Jo shouted, stumbling to find her feet. Lucifer instantly pulled her back with three of his wings, earning him a glare full of ire and fear. “Let me go, Sam! I need to find my mom!”

_Tell me where you are!_

_Stay with Dean and Bobby,_ Lucifer ordered Anael. _You’re the only defense they have, stay put!_

“Let me get to my mom!”

Not a chance, not with the way things were looking. There were at least half a dozen angels in the road, all surrounding a small group of people. An overturned truck off to the side didn’t yield any souls or Graces, but there in the middle of the road, in the center of the advancing angels, were two souls and one Grace. Sidria stood, blade at the ready, determined to stand between the other angels and the humans.

Wait. One Grace.

His eyes found the being on the ground. There was certainly no Grace left in Naomi’s vessel, and part of him mourned her loss for the fact that the Host had lost one of their own. The other part of him hated that they’d lost a valuable lead they hadn’t been able to translate.

One of the angels stepped to the side, facing Lucifer, and Lucifer stiffened. “Tabbris,” he said lowly. “What is the meaning of this?”

“The Devil is here,” Tabbris said coldly. “How fitting. Do these mud monkeys belong to you? Have you ensnared them with your evil ways?”

“You should really check a mirror,” Lucifer told him. “Because the only one who’s using evil ways is you.”

Tabbris snorted. “I’m doing God’s work.”

“You’re doing Metatron’s work,” Sidria said angrily. One of the nearby angels rattled their wings together, scowling at her, and she shook her head. “You know that by now. We were all of us led astray but we have a chance to make it right!”

“Led astray is the exact phrase I would use,” said another voice, and there was Ariniel, crossing her arms. “Can you not see that we’re trying to cleanse the Earth? Did God not do this many times with water and fire and plague? How is this any different?”

“Because Father didn’t ask for this,” Lucifer said, putting emphasis on the word _Father_ in order to remind them all that they were not archangels. The resulting flinches from all of the angels, including Tabbris, felt like a victory. “There are other ways to help things but this is not one of them. Believing in the words of someone else and mistaking them as holy are _not_ what we should do.”

“You’ve decided that it’s unholy,” Tabbris snapped. “But it was blessed by the being that God put in charge. I’d say that’s fairly holy.”

They didn’t care, Lucifer realized with a start. They didn’t even care that it wasn’t God’s word anymore. It went with what they wanted to see done, and so that was gospel enough to them.

Sidria stood, stunned, as if realizing the same thing. “Last chance, Sidria,” Tabbris warned. “Give me the humans.”

Sidria only tightened her grip on her blade. “Over my dead body.”

Two angels rushed from the back, moving towards Ellen and Rufus who were crouched by Naomi’s body, and Sidria didn’t hesitate, simply swung her wings around with the blade following. Lucifer left Jo behind and flew into the thick of it, slicing hard into another angel with his blade before he could advance on Sidria. The angel cried out and tried to fly away, but he wouldn’t get far.

A shot went off, but it wasn’t going to make much of a difference to the angels. Still, it told him that someone was still breathing and still able to fight, and he’d take that over silence any time of the day. He whipped his wings into the two who’d come for Sidria and sent them flying. Another angel dared come forward and Lucifer struck out with his blade, catching a wing and causing her to stumble back with a cry, Grace bleeding out. Four out of the area, two left.

Ariniel moved forward, Grace bright in her eyes, and they were locked on Ellen and Rufus. “Mom, watch out!” Jo shouted, still running forward. Ellen’s gaze swung to her daughter, and Lucifer could see the fear in her soul as she screamed for Jo to get back. It was just enough of a distraction for Ariniel who dove towards Ellen, but Lucifer caught her blade and kept her at bay. Ariniel let out a shriek, trying to pull her blade down, and Sidria swung her elbow at Ariniel’s head, catching her off-guard and sending her a few feet away, clutching at her nose.

That one had to have come from Gabriel. Or Dean.

A shout made Lucifer turn in time to see Rufus go flying off to the side. Tabbris was there, but he wasn’t aiming for anyone except Jo. His eyes were like rage. “You think you can love one of _us_?” he thundered. “How _dare_ you?”

Lucifer immediately dove, but he wasn’t fast enough. Tabbris’s blade flew forward, aiming straight for Jo’s heart. Jo gasped in pain and blood flew.

Then Ellen fell, right into her daughter’s waiting arms.

“ _Mom_!”

It was Sam who shot forward, eyes locked on the only real mom figure he’d ever had. Tabbris turned, blood on his blade, and then suddenly took off, wings taking him high into the sky. A moment later, Ariniel followed, still holding her nose.

Silence reigned, cut only by a crying Jo holding on to a bleeding Ellen, and Sam could barely catch his breath.

Sidria’s eyes were wide as she moved towards them. “I’m so sorry,” she said miserably. “It was my job to protect them and, and I failed. Lucifer, I’m so sorry.”

The flash of wing and Grace was all the warning Sam had, and his voice was too slow. “Sid—!”

She spun too late. Tabbris came from behind her, piercing her through in an instant. Her eyes lit, wide in fear and pain, and light shone out of every one of her pores. Jo screamed and Sam raced forward, his sword nowhere close to where it needed to be.

A moment later, her light was extinguished, and her dead vessel hit the ground. The ghost of her wings echoed in the physical plane, scorching the earth where they landed.

And Tabbris stood above her, his Grace still bright and vile in his eyes. Sam felt every inch of his archangel being shoot forward, lips turned up into a snarl, sword swinging out ahead of him. Too late again: Tabbris took off, shooting through the sky once more. His wings coiled, ready to fly.

“Lucifer! _Sam_!”

Jo. Jo, and Rufus, who was hurrying to get to Jo, defenseless against the next attack, the two angels who’d been thrown out but not taken out. There was no contest, but it still burned to let him go. Lucifer flew back in and this time threw his wings up around the three hunters. Jo gasped as the shadow of his wings blocked the attacks from the other angels. As soon as they were repelled, he swung his sword and cut the light out of one of the angels. Her vessel tumbled to the ground, and the other angel wisely made his exit, taking off after Tabbris.

“ **No** ,” Lucifer thundered. His blade flew forward, projected by his Grace and his psychic abilities, and sank deep into the flying angel. The body tumbled to the earth, hitting with a thud. His blade came rolling back into his palm, and then it was silent.

Well. Silent except for his panting breaths that he didn’t really need, but he really did, because he was gasping, trying desperately to breathe in and not grieve.

His eyes betrayed him and darted behind. Her eyes were still open, and while it didn’t matter, it mattered to Sam. Carefully he made his way to her remains and knelt down. His hand gently brushed her eyelids closed before moving to trace the edge of her wings.

Gone. Sidria was gone.

“Is she…” and Rufus couldn’t seem to voice the obvious.

Sam swallowed hard. “Yeah,” he said roughly. “She is.”

“Damn,” he said lowly, and then he was silent.

Jo managed to find her voice. “Sam, my mom—”

In a flash he left Sidria and hurried over to where Jo was, crouching at Ellen’s side. “Mom,” she said desperately. “ _Mom_ , wake up. Mom!”

Her soul was still there, but her pulse was fading in time with the blood flow. “Move,” Sam said, then let Lucifer edge into his voice when Jo refused to let go. “ **Jo, _go_**.”

She stumbled back, but only just, and Lucifer reached down and placed a hand on Ellen’s head. With his Grace, it was an easy push to settle things back in place as well as to nudge forward the quick growth of new blood cells. Ellen sat up with a gasp, hauling in breath after beautiful breath.

“Mom!”

Jo practically dove at Ellen, and Rufus made his way over as well. “A damn miracle,” he muttered. “I can’t believe it.”

“Baby,” Ellen whispered brokenly, holding on to Jo like her daughter had been the one at death’s door. “Oh, my baby, I saw you here and I was so afraid I was gonna lose you too.”

Sam stepped away, finally letting his emotions pull at him. Ellen had nearly died, the closest to a mother he’d ever known. He’d nearly lost Jo and Rufus. And Sidria…

He shut his eyes. _Gabriel, Raphael…Sidria is dead. So's Naomi. Tabbris is gone._

The response was swift, stunned silence before the sound of wings landed. “What happened?” Raphael demanded. “Lucifer—”

“That angel gutted my mom,” Jo said angrily, before her face twisted up in grief. “And then he…”

Raphael had already stumbled to a halt, mouth parted in clear sorrow as he gazed down at Sidria’s lifeless form. “Oh, dear little one,” he murmured, and Lucifer couldn’t. He just couldn’t.

Another gust of wings heralded Ezekiel’s approach. “Zeke,” Jo choked out, and that was two angels to handle three hunters. Lucifer glanced at Raphael and found his older brother nodding.

“Go,” Raphael urged quietly. “Hannah and Nathaniel are on their way.”

Lucifer took off, flying straight to the only place that mattered, the only person that could help. He landed with a thud in the middle of Bobby’s library, startling Dean and Bobby both. Dean took one look at him and immediately rose, anger and worry in his gaze. “What the _fuck_ happened?” he asked. “Gabriel was here after I prayed but he just took off and you just left me here—”

It was Sam who tripped over his feet and caught hold of Dean’s shirt, burying his face in Dean’s neck. “Sidria,” he managed. “Tabbris, he…”

Arms came up tight around him and held on for dear life, instantly turning to comforter. “It’s all right,” Dean soothed. “It’s, it’s all right. It’ll be…” And he couldn’t finish.

Even though it wasn’t Grace, something warm still reached out to him. Dean’s soul, desperately trying to soothe, and Sam shut his eyes and gave in to the tears.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This may be one of those things I can't make better. Sorry, everyone.


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know the last chapter hurt, a lot. In the spirit of Valentine's Day, have something a little softer and warmer.

There wasn’t much of a service in Heaven; Heaven didn’t really do that sort of thing. Songs of grief and loss resounded through Heaven’s halls as the Host joined their sorrow in harmony, or so Dean had assumed and Raphael had confirmed.

On Earth, however, there was definitely a memorial held.

The soul of Sidria’s vessel had already been safely taken to Heaven, her just reward. The body was wrapped in the best linens Ellen could find and set on a pyre made with birch and ash wood. No one argued with Gabriel when he brought all of the wood in and insisted he arrange it, and no one said a thing when he carved both an Enochian blessing and a Norse rune into the wood. Dean understood.

Just as much as he understood when Bobby used some of his best whiskey to help light the fire, or when Rufus poured one out. Or when Ellen had insisted on wrapping Sidria up, or why Jo had whispered a thanks before the fire was set.

Or why Sam stood off to the side, staring at the flames with tears in his eyes, murmuring a mix of Latin and Enochian under his breath. Dean didn’t say anything, just rested a hand on Sam’s shoulder. Giving as much as he was taking comfort, and when Castiel came to stand with them, lost without somewhere clear to be, Dean just hauled him in under his other arm.

Anael and Ezekiel stood by the Harvelles, looking equally lost, and Dean ached to help them. On her own, between Anael and Raphael, stood Anna, silent since she’d woken up earlier and asked two questions.

_“Did I…hurt Sam?”_

_“No, he’s all right.”_

_“Then why is the Host mourning?”_

She hadn’t taken the news well. The only words she’d uttered after that had been a heartfelt apology to Sam, who had, in typical Sam fashion, told her she had nothing to apologize for. After that, Anna hadn’t responded to any of them.

But his place at the moment was keeping Sam and Cas from flying off the handle; Raph had Gabe under control and was inching towards Anna, where Dean was certain there were wings extended towards her. That was handled: Dean wasn’t going over to deal with them. He’d get to the others later.

Especially since he knew he was going to have another conversation with Sam at some point about guilt. And hurt. And grief. Because of course Sam had taken the entire thing and made it his fault.

_“I should’ve known, I should’ve gone sooner, I should’ve—”_

_“You saved three humans against what’s essentially a garrison of angels. You took them all on by yourself and you saved Ellen’s life. Gabe said the Host is already talking about the amazing power of Lucifer and you’re sitting here, chewing on yourself.”_

_“I didn’t save Sidria. She died right in front of me. I should’ve known Tabbris would come back, why didn’t I move faster?”_

_“Because we’ve underestimated Tabbris. We keep thinking he’s thinking like an angel, acting like an angel. And he’s not anymore. This wasn’t your fault.”_

Sam hadn’t believed him. Wouldn’t for a while, but Dean knew he might get there at some point.

Because ultimately, it was Dean’s fault: if he’d had his Grace, he could’ve been there. If he’d been faster, he could’ve gone with them and provided another person to fight. Instead he’d been relegated to the person stuck behind while his little brother and little sister had gone off to fight.

In a way, Sidria had given them a moment of horrible peace. It’d taken a few days to get the pyre set and everyone together. No one had bothered them, and from what Dean could tell, there’d been no reports on the Leviathans emerging anywhere, either. Everyone seemed to have put themselves on pause to let them grieve.

He was certain that was absolutely not the case, more like Tabbris licking his wounds and trying to recover from losing his own angels, but he was grateful for it all the same. Because at the moment, there were a lot of younger siblings to watch out for, as well as the usual giant of a little brother who’d gone nearly mute. Sidria had hit them all hard, but Dean knew that even if Lucifer hadn’t been the one there when she’d died, it still would’ve kicked him ten times harder than anyone else. Sidria had been a friend, as loyal to Sam as Castiel had been for Dean before they’d discovered who they were. The thought of losing Castiel made Dean’s stomach churn. He had to imagine Sam felt the same.

A figure emerged from the darkness as the pyre continued to burn, then another, and no one said a thing. Meg quietly stood beside Castiel, arms wrapped around herself, somber for once. Castiel didn’t take her hand or acknowledge her, but he did lean towards her, and Dean figured that was notice enough.

Crowley was less silent, but still quiet. “I’d hoped the news was wrong,” he said. There was an ugly looking wound on his neck that looked like teeth marks. “I actually enjoyed the spitfire. She was different. I like different.”

Dean just nodded. There really wasn’t much else to say.

In the light of the flames, Crowley’s eyes looked even more like the fires of Hell themselves. “I also heard there was a miscommunication issue,” he continued. “Seems like your internet server crashed. Did you try turning it off and then on again?”

It was a peace offering, an olive branch, one that he as Michael would’ve been able to answer better, he was sure. _I am Michael,_ he insisted to himself. _I am Michael._ “The transference lines are open again, from what I’ve heard.”

“Still missing a wing or six, then,” Crowley said. As if he couldn’t see for himself, but Dean sort of appreciated that he was asking instead of assuming.

“It’ll come back,” Sam said, voice rough. “Did you only come to pay your respects, Crowley?”

“And to thank you. Abaddon’s been a pain in my bloody arse for some time. You swore you’d find her and you did. I owe you thanks for that, at least.” He paused, eyes turning to Meg briefly, before they moved to Sam. “And I have a present for you. When you want it. I’d prefer you take him sooner rather than later.”

It took Dean a moment, but his little brother clearly understood. His eyes flashed red. “You found the demon who killed Jess,” Lucifer whispered.

“Found and have,” Crowley told him. “I’ve got him locked up in a shipping container in the Los Angeles port. He’s currently under lock and key. I’d have kept him in Hell until you were ready for him, but I’ve got enough damage down there that I couldn’t guarantee he’d stay.”

“How bad is the damage?” Castiel asked softly, clearly wanting to let everyone else grieve without being privy to the conversation. Not like everyone wasn’t watching them anyway, and it wasn’t like the other angels weren’t listening in, and it definitely wasn’t like Ellen and Bobby weren’t filling Rufus in. Still, Dean appreciated Cas’s soft touch.

“It undid a lot of things I worked hard to put in place,” Crowley admitted with a scowl. “I’d just about gotten it all under control, too. Or thought I had. Then they blew through, ate several of my best demons, and then tore out of there.”

Dean glanced at the teeth marks. “Not before they tore out of you.”

He got a slow smirk for that. “Yes, but I’m still standing. The Leviathan might be, but I’m not in Purgatory to see.”

Lucifer rolled his shoulders back, clearly trying to shake off his current grief to deal with his old grief. “What do you want for the demon,” he said. It didn’t exactly sound like a question.

Dean watched as Crowley raised his eyebrows. “I can’t just offer you a gift as a token of thanks for taking out Abaddon?”

“No,” Dean and Lucifer said together. “What do you want?” Dean repeated.

For a moment, Crowley seemed to grow in the shadows of the flames, eyes dark and bright, holding the immense power that only the King of Hell could contain. Dean didn’t move: neither Castiel nor Lucifer had shifted, and if anyone was in danger, they’d have been the first to the defense. Especially after what had happened.

A moment later, however, Crowley was just Crowley, several inches shorter than any of them except for maybe Jo and Ellen, and wearing his trademark steel-infused smirk. “I do want something, yes,” he said. “But it’s ‘cross the pond. I can’t get it myself, and quite honestly, I don’t trust any of my lot to do it for me. It’s a simple item that holds no value to anyone except me, and it’s…it’s personal,” he finally said, looking uncomfortable for the first time since he’d arrived. “I’d appreciate it if someone could fly over there and get it.”

“You’ll tell us where?” Lucifer asked.

“Better than any GPS, I assure you. Oh,” and the smirk dropped, “I also want your promise that you’re not looking to reclaim your crown of Hell anytime soon.”

Lucifer’s eyes flashed red, this time in anger. “I already told you—”

“And the little birds who have been whispering in my ear have mentioned that the Devil was reborn. Forgive me if I didn’t want to check that out for myself.”

Dean found his eyes darting towards Anna. “Little birdy with red hair?”

Crowley followed his gaze, then frowned. “Not your kind of birdy. Mine don’t fly. But I was assured that it came from another birdy…and this type might’ve had wings that soared.”

Well, that answered a few things. “I’m not looking for any crown,” Lucifer told him firmly. “Hell is yours. I don’t need it, nor do I want it. Tell me where your item is, and we’ll get it. Then I want the location of the demon who killed Jess.” His voice was steady but Dean could see the grief in his eyes.

A long pause ensued, then Crowley gave a slow nod. “I think it’d better be the other way around, Moose,” he said. “I’ve got demons I can’t afford sitting on him. Once that’s taken care of, I’ll send you coordinates. I assume you’re familiar with those.”

“Smart ass,” Dean muttered.

With a smirk Crowley disappeared, leaving them alone with the others and the fading pyre. Surprisingly, Meg stayed, eyes on the flames. “You’re not helping Crowley?” Castiel asked her.

Meg snorted. “This _is_ helping Crowley. I’m coming with you to deal with the demon. Trust me, you’ll get more out of him if I show up. He’s not my biggest fan.”

That probably was true. It made Dean’s mind race. Who the hell would’ve been trusted enough to handle Jess’s death? If it hadn’t been Azazel, and it hadn’t been Meg, then which of the higher demons was it? He hadn’t exactly kept up on the hierarchy of things, as focused as he’d been on getting Lucifer out of the Cage.

Guess they’d find out soon enough. Right now, no one was going anywhere. And Sam sure as hell wasn’t going from one emotional fallout to another without some rest in between.

There was nothing left of Sidria’s vessel now except for ashes. “Raphael,” Dean called softly, and Raphael carefully put the rest of the pyre out. The ashes drifted in the wind, off to somewhere else.

He realized suddenly that he didn’t know where her vessel’s family was, or if they’d been told. Sidria hadn’t been on Earth long, not even a year.

“I told them.”

Dean glanced to where Gabriel had drifted towards them. Gabriel shrugged a little, looking unsettled and clearly trying to hide it. “I’ve kind of kept a lock on everyone’s vessel, y’know. In case of. Well.” He shifted his shoulders and cleared his throat. “Ezekiel’s has been gone since he took the form. Anael’s is alive; she told her family she’s off on a missionary trip to some really far-off country. Sidria’s told her family that she needed time, that she felt lost and just needed guidance.”

The way Gabriel was hunched, eyes on the ground, Dean could all but imagine the six wings shuttered tight and Grace dim. “Sidria was good for her,” Dean offered.

“She wasn’t even Sidria’s true vessel.”

That startled Dean, as well as the giant leaning against him. “What?” Sam asked, bewildered. “I know it works a little differently for angels that aren’t archangels but—”

“Oh, her true vessel, the closest match she could find, she’s around,” Gabriel told them. “She’s a social worker who spends her time volunteering with the local church. It’s her little sister that Sidria took.”

“Why?” Castiel asked. The others had gathered around now, drawn in by Gabriel’s story. Even Anna had moved towards them, and Raphael rested a hand on her shoulder. “Why wouldn’t she take the vessel best suited for her Grace?”

“I asked her that. She told me, ‘Because she needed me as much as I needed her.’ Little sister was apparently in the wrong scene. Drugs, petty theft. And I think…I think it was the little sister part that tugged at Sidria.”

The little sister on the outs with the family, a rebel and a reject all in one. One probably missing her older sibling something fierce. It made Dean’s chest ache enough to make him flinch. “You told her family, you said?” Ellen asked quietly.

Gabriel nodded jerkily. “Told ‘em their girl had helped mend broken families, made a real difference, and died protecting someone. That they should be proud of her.”

“What was her name?” Bobby asked. “Her vessel’s real name?”

Finally, a smile hung on the edge of Gabriel’s lips. “Alexis. It means ‘defender and helper of mankind’. I figured it was apt.”

Apt indeed. Dean held out his hand and didn’t have to wait long for Gabriel’s snap. He raised a full shot glass to the sky. “To little sisters who defended.”

“To Alexis and Sidria,” Sam echoed. A chorus joined them as numerous shot glasses toasted to the heavens.

It burned going down and Dean pretended it was the reason his eyes filled.

“Hey kiddo.”

Castiel raised his eyes from the junker he’d sort of been staring at. It never ceased to amaze him how something so beautiful and powerful as a vehicle could become a rusting pile of useless junk. Yet even after its purpose, even after the vehicle was done, new life could come out of it to help others.

It was, Castiel thought, the most poetic thing he could ask for after one’s death.

“To give yourself up for spare parts?”

Castiel just sighed. Relenting, Gabriel settled beside him on the stairs. The day felt cool, the weather mild. It should’ve felt like another beautiful example of God’s perfect days.

Except there was a young angel dead, a human family without its daughter, and many grieving both losses. Never mind that Sidria’s killer was still out there, allowed to roam free. His lips curled up into a snarl.

“Easy, Castiel,” Gabriel said quietly, the name soothing with the Enochian accentuation. “Easy. You’re a little wound.”

“Aren’t you?” Castiel asked sharply. “Or are you just so much more used to angels dying?”

The silence wasn’t as telling as the way Gabriel’s Grace withdrew. It made Castiel’s fire die, just a little, and remind him too well that he actually _could_ hurt Gabriel. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “That was uncalled for. I’m just…”

The Grace returned in a way that he wasn’t exactly sure he deserved. “You’ve been a little off since you and Ezekiel were taken,” Gabriel said in a knowing way and Castiel unwillingly went to finding Lucifer and Gabriel kept by Asmodeus. In the next instant he was back in the warehouse, waking up to a cold room, Ezekiel nowhere nearby, and Abaddon—

_“What have you done with him? I didn’t fight you. You swore not to harm him.”_

_“I did, yes. And he’s not been harmed. Yet. I can change that. One hostage works as well as two.”_

_“Then what do you want from me? Information?”_

_“Oh no, little bird. I said that one hostage might work as well as two, but any hostage worth their weight isn’t going to step out looking like a fresh little daisy. And I’m in need of some stress relief, the sort you get after a nice, brutal, beating.”_

_“You’re not doing anything.”_

_“So brave, you are. Because you still haven’t told me who’s getting the beating: you, or the other little bird in my cage. Who’s it going to be?”_

The cold of the warehouse was suddenly gone, his entire Grace and being engulfed in the heat of his brother’s furious Grace. On the surface, Gabriel looked calm enough, but his eyes were golden and his Grace was hot and full of righteous wrath. “You did good, Cassie,” was what he said, voice making broken glass panes rattle in the car doors. “You did good.”

“I knew what you’d do,” Castiel admitted quietly. “What Lucifer, Sam, did. What any of you would’ve done. I thought it would feel better, to spare him.”

“It would’ve been better if there’d been a different reason for the pain besides that they wanted to just inflict it,” Gabriel said with a slow nod. “Bruises and wounds from battle hurt less than that.”

Castiel hung his head. “Because I let it happen,” he said roughly. “I could’ve fought back, but—”

“No, you couldn’t have.”

The second voice was more than welcome, and Castiel slumped when Dean’s hand rested on his shoulder. “Ezekiel’s life was on the line,” Dean continued. “And she would’ve killed you anyway.”

“’One hostage works as well as two’,” Castiel quoted bitterly. “That’s what she said.”

“And she was right,” Dean insisted. “Cas, she would’ve slaughtered you just to make a point to Ezekiel. Inflicting pain on you was the lesser of all evils. You both got out alive. You saved Ezekiel’s life.”

Had he? “I, I haven’t asked,” Castiel admitted shamefully. “I haven’t asked him if Abaddon hurt him at all.” How damning of him was that? To not see if his younger brother was all right?

“Well, you might not have, but we have,” Gabriel told him. “She didn’t touch him. He got roughed around by a few of the demons but she didn’t lay a finger on him. She was too busy hurting you and then relaying what she’d done to him.”

“He was pretty livid,” Dean agreed. “He’s sort of sorry he didn’t get a chance to kill her himself.”

Gabriel snorted. “I don’t blame him. If anyone else had killed Asmodeus, I’d have thrown a bitchfit.”

The sullenness of the statement, coupled with the almost pout, was enough to make Castiel’s lips turn up. “You did good, Cas,” Dean told him again. “All right? So take it easy.”

“I don’t know how to ‘take it easy’,” Castiel said, too frustrated to try and use air quotes. He never got them right, anyway. “I’m just so…”

“Helpless,” Gabriel offered quietly. “Yeah. You’re going to be for a while. But you’ll come out the other side doing a hell of a lot better.”

“Did Lucifer talk to you? About Asmodeus?” Castiel found himself asking.

Gabriel went very still, enough to make him want to take back the question, but surprisingly, Gabriel’s Grace went bright and warm, humbled. “He did. He told me that as much as it had sucked, it’d been his choice. He could’ve tanked on me, could’ve let Asmodeus switch, but he didn’t. _He_ controlled that decision. It was his choice.”

“Just like this was yours,” Dean added. “She forced you into a corner but you made the choice yourself. You might not feel like there was much of a choice, but there was. You controlled who she lashed out at.”

That…did actually make him feel better, maybe a little more even-keeled. “There’s just been so much,” Castiel said, shaking his head. “Nothing’s felt in control. First Abaddon and then the Leviathans, Lucifer nearly dying, then Anna appearing and Sidria—”

He couldn’t forget Naomi in all of it, shouldn’t, but he didn’t have a voice anymore. He closed his eyes and felt Gabriel’s wings tighten against his back. Beside him, Dean’s shoulder was as firm bolster as it ever was.

“Why can’t we just cut Tabbris off from his Grace? Raphael did it to me—”

“And I already told you that the reason Raph could do it was because he’d killed you: he knew exactly which strand of Grace was yours. If we go up there and start messing with the Grace lines, I could cut yours off. Or Ezekiel’s.”

Castiel knew this, had already asked Gabriel three times. It still didn’t make it easier to accept. “The plus side is that he can’t cut ours off, either,” Gabriel added. “Worst he could do was try and kill the prayer lines, and we fixed that, too.”

“Take a breather,” Dean said quietly. “Then go talk to Ezekiel. I think that’ll help you a lot. It helped Luce.”

“I should help you with Anna,” Castiel protested half-heartedly, but Gabriel waved him off.

“Anna’s fine. She’s processing a lot, too. Let her heal. Your job right now is to help _you_. You’ve been by everyone’s side through the past crazy…days, weeks, I don’t even know anymore. It’s been a massive surge from one side to the next. But we’ve got breathing room while we regroup. Take it, kiddo. And take care of yourself. That’s what we want you to do.”

That, Castiel would selfishly take. “Rufus’s got cookies in the oven,” Dean offered, and Castiel’s lips turned up again.

“Do they have alcohol in them?”

“Of course they do,” Gabriel said, sounding affronted. “The best cookies always do.”

Rusting cars held their own peace, but suddenly Castiel found himself wanting to be surrounded by souls and Grace, the family he’d somehow stumbled into. “Go on,” Dean encouraged, and Castiel rose and headed inside.

He’d talk to Ezekiel. Perhaps after the cookies that it looked like Ellen was helping Rufus pull out of the oven.

With a sigh Dean hung his head. “If it’s not one thing,” he muttered.

“Hey,” Gabriel said sharply. “We knew Cassie needed to be talked to. Just as much as I needed to talk after Asmodeus. Just as much as Lucifer did.” He nudged Dean in the side. “You can talk too, y’know.”

“I don’t think I’ve been taken hostage at this point,” Dean said dryly, but Gabriel shook his head.

“Not like that. I mean about the Grace. Specifically, the Grace that’s not coming back online for you.”

Dean shut his eyes. That was the last thing he wanted to think about right then and there. But how could he not, when the words kept drifting through his mind? _If you’d been Michael, Sidria wouldn’t have died._

“You don’t know that.”

“Get out of my head.”

“Not a damn chance,” Gabriel said, suddenly fierce. “You’re my big brother, and we’ll make this work. We took on Zachariah and the Four Horsemen while you and Sam were humans without any of your archangel knowledge. We can do this, all right? Don’t crap out on me now.”

No, he wouldn’t do that. “Talk to me,” Gabriel said, quieter now. “Or Raphael, when he gets back from Heaven with Anael. Or Lucifer. Samshine’s _always_ happy whenever you break rank and pull a chick flick.”

“Shut up,” Dean muttered, but he couldn’t stop the small grin from Gabriel’s obnoxiousness. “I will. Talk, that is. Whenever I can figure out words to string together, all right?”

Gabriel stared at him for a long moment and Dean realized, not for the first time, that Gabriel could see his soul and all of his emotions likely on display. None of them were new. All of them were frustratingly old and unlikely to change anytime soon.

So when Gabriel spoke, Dean wasn’t at all surprised that he’d gotten straight to the nucleus. “You don’t need to be Michael to help Sam face his literal demon, y’know.”

“It’d make things a lot easier,” Dean admitted. “You know that.”

“What did I tell you, when Zachariah took Sam? That he was Sam Winchester, and he could handle himself. Well, you’re Dean Winchester. And you can do pretty much anything when it comes to helping Sam.”

Fair enough. “Getting smart in your old age,” Dean teased, and wasn’t at all surprised to suddenly find himself sporting a new hat, one that, as soon as he pulled it off, proclaimed him to be “Over the Hill”.

“Not sure what happened to all of your smarts then,” Gabriel shot back, grinning as he headed inside. “That smells—hey! Leave some of those for me!”

Ellen’s voice was all motherly in its irritation. “You can literally snap your fingers and have whatever you want. Quit yammering about not getting cookies. You can have some of the next batch.”

“Dean, she’s being mean to me!” Gabriel hollered through the doorway, and it was a _Get in here,_ and _Don’t sit alone,_ all at once.

Rolling his eyes, Dean rose to his feet and headed inside. There were cookies to steal from Gabriel, and Sam could use alcohol and sweets all wrapped into one. Both of his little brothers gave Dean direction, even if it was just redistributing cookie wealth, and that? That he’d take, any damn day of the week.

He could definitely still do that, even without wings.


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For once, a chapter that's not insanely massive!

The port felt cold. It wasn’t just the sea breeze that lurked in from the Pacific, or the night sky from above either. No, it also had to do with the chill coming from the container ahead of them, flanked by three demons. For Crowley to give up three demons while he was still desperately trying to put Hell back together, that meant something.

Something decidedly bad.

Beside him, Dean shivered. “Isn’t California supposed to be warm?” he grumbled. “It was warm when I was here last.”

“You could’ve actually worn a real coat,” Meg commented. “Plaid isn’t really that warm, you know.”

“That’s why we have layers.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, I wasn’t aware that I was insulting your idea of chic.”

“They’re _handy_.”

“No wonder you can’t wear a real coat. You’d never be able to walk under the weight of the clothes you’ve got on.”

“You didn’t have to come,” Sam said quietly. As much as he appreciated not being alone, he could’ve handled it himself. This was just putting Dean at risk. This was putting Meg at risk, even, because it was clear that Crowley would be just fine with her removed from existence. Castiel could handle himself, as could Gabriel, but it still didn’t make Sam feel much better.

Lucifer. He needed to be Lucifer now, more than ever before. Because Sam’s heart had already lost Jess once and he had a feeling it was going to be like losing her all over again.

Dean just gave him a look that said he was being stupid. “You’re being stupid,” he said, like Sam hadn’t been able to read his face. “I’m not leaving you to face down Jess’s killer by yourself. Especially not after we just lost Sidria.”

Especially after Sam had spectacularly lost it, flying back in to cry into his big brother’s shirt. His face went warm. “You didn’t have to come, either,” Sam told Meg, and she gave a snort.

“I’ve been looking forward to this ever since I found out who it was. Not a chance, Sambo. I want to watch.”

He glanced at Castiel and Gabriel, but more out of resignation than anything else. Sure enough, both of their faces were giving him the same look that said he was a few sandwiches short of a picnic.

_I’ve always preferred the term ‘a few people short of an orgy’ myself._

Sam’s lips went up without his permission, and Gabriel’s Grace visibly warmed, clearly pleased. “Thank you,” he said instead, because it was all he had in the face of the support he was being all but swallowed by. “I…thank you.”

Dean rested a hand on his shoulder. “You do what you need to do,” was all he said.

He needed to get answers, but the Sam part of him was going to want vengeance in a hurry. Yeah, he definitely needed to be Lucifer.

There was also the need to be Lucifer for the simple fact that the demons in front of them were clearly watching them with a glare. He let his Grace loose, eyes red and angry, wings out and full of fury. It was worth it to watch the three demons shrink back, eyes wide. “Still got it,” Gabriel said approvingly.

The demon closest to the door grabbed hold of the handle and threw it open. With the door opened, the strong, reeking darkness inside was all the more obvious. Lucifer pulled a breath in and strode inside the container, Dean and the others right behind him.

There were some construction lights in two corners, highlighting the chair in the middle. The devil’s traps on both the ceiling and the floor were enough to catch Lucifer’s attention, but nothing more than the face that greeted him, chained to the chair. His Grace froze, his soul lurched in agony, and he couldn’t find any air to breathe with.

None of the others knew why, except Meg, who almost looked apologetic. “Sam?” Dean asked immediately. “Sammy?”

“Hey, Sam,” came from the demon in the chair, lips turned up into that confident grin that he remembered too well. “Man, it’s been a while, huh?”

“ _Brady_ ,” he choked out, eyes burning.

‘Brady’ smiled. “To be fair, he hasn’t really been around since about, oh, that fall break before you hooked up with Jess. It was messy. He sort of gave up a long time ago. I bet I could bring him around if you wanted him, though.”

“Sorry,” Meg said low under her breath. “For what it’s worth.”

Too focused on the human face, Lucifer could barely even look at the darkness swirling behind it. He blamed that for the reason that Gabriel recognized the demon first. “Shemyaza,” he greeted coldly. “It’s been a long time.”

“Too long,” Shemyaza said, still grinning, still pulling Brady’s lips up into that familiar look. “How’s it been? I mean, you’ve had your hands full, from what I understand, ever since you killed Azazel.” His eyes flashed black in anger. “He was practically my brother, you know. And then you assholes—”

As if realizing how angry he was getting, he straightened his glare back into a grin. “But hey, you wat to make life harder for you, go for it. Should’ve teamed up with him. That ass down in Hell has had you all twisted around, upside and downside, throwing Leviathans out into the world. They’ll eat their way through everything if you’re not careful.”

Answers. He needed answers. But suddenly all Lucifer wanted to do was gut the demon in front of him until he screamed. He knew his Grace had to be giving everything away but he couldn’t hold himself back. Not when he was looking into the face of the only friend he’d had for his first year at Stanford, the guy who’d listened to his drunk crying about missing his big brother, the man who’d helped him meet—

Lucifer froze. No. _No_.

“Crowley’s not involved in anything,” Meg said, rolling her eyes. Shemyaza narrowed his gaze.

“Well, hello, bitch. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen your sorry excuse of a demon around. Not surprised that you’re already pandering to the latest demon on the throne. If you’d had real ambition, it could’ve been you with the crown.”

Meg just smirked. “Didn’t you ever hear about the power behind the throne?”

A barked laugh filled the air. “That’s not you, princess. Me, yeah, I’ll be her power, but not you. You don’t have what it takes. Or else why didn’t your daddy hand the hit to you?”

Even while Lucifer desperately tried to keep up, Dean was thankfully already there. “I assume you mean Abaddon when you say ‘her’? Because I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but she’s dead.”

Shemyaza went still, and his eyes flashed black. “You lie,” he hissed.

“Oh, she’s toast,” Dean continued. “Lucifer dealt the final blow himself. It was pretty nice to watch, actually. Best entertainment I’ve had in a while.”

Black eyes moved to him. “Guess you should’ve bet on the home team,” Meg drawled.

“I wouldn’t have bet on him if it was the last thing I did,” Shemyaza snapped. His lips twisted into a cruel grin. “This guy? I mean, the only thing he knew how to do right was read a book. I don’t know how many times he picked up the damn phone and could never finish calling his brother. He didn’t talk to anyone on his own, and I can’t even start with engaging anyone he was genuinely interested in. And somehow, _this_ guy was going to have the strength to rule Hell? The crap hunter and all-around reject? I mean, I had to shove Jess at him, and the only reason she wound up going with him was because she felt bad for him and thought he was sort of cute. The gangly, thin little dweeb couldn’t have scored her on his own!”

Even as his soul curled away from the abuse and the painful truths he’d always guessed at but never really accepted, his Grace burned hot because— “It wasn’t Brady, though, was it? You’re not Brady. Brady was already possessed when I was introduced to Jess.”

“See, there’s the brain that keeps on ticking,” Shemyaza said, feigning pride, and it made Lucifer want to be sick. “I picked her because she was the closest to pure and perfect that I could get. It was going to make my killing her that much sweeter. And you know what?”

He leaned forward, as if imparting a secret, and whispered, “It _did_.”

Lucifer blinked and the chair, the chains, all of it were suddenly straining against the edge of the devil’s trap about six feet in the air. There were hands on his arms, mouths open wide as if Dean and the others were shouting, but he couldn’t hear anything. Shemyaza had Brady’s lips parted in a pained scream, from the looks of it, and the black smoke flickered inside. Oh. Looked like he was killing the demon. He wasn’t supposed to do that yet.

Voices finally made it through. “—my, Luce, Sammy, _put him down_ ,” Dean ordered, eyes green but not green enough, just his soul that was bright and twisted in pain. It was the pain that pulled him back, drew his attention from Shemyaza, because Dean’s soul was teaming with it, dim and all but writhing.

For him, he realized. Dean’s soul was aching for him.

The sound of the chair landed on the bottom of the container with a harsh bang, echoing around them. Wheezing came from the same direction but Lucifer didn’t pay it any mind. He took a breath, then another, and Dean’s hands came away from his shoulders.

“We should’ve just let him,” Castiel muttered. “We’re not going to get anything out of the demon.”

“Clarence is right,” Meg pointed out. “Shemyaza’s just an errand boy. We need a bigger piece of the pie. Lucifer, just get rid of him.”

It was the first time she’d actually told him to do something. That, coupled with the fact that Meg knew above all others how high ranking Shemyaza was, told Lucifer exactly what he needed to do. “She’s right. We don’t need him anymore,” and he made a show out of reaching his hand out.

And Shemyaza crumbled. “Wait, wait, wait! C’mon, I’m not just some ‘errand boy’, give me a break, you know my name!”

“I know a lot of names,” Gabriel said with a careless shrug. “That doesn’t make you special, sparky. Luce, c’mon, I’ve got alcohol waiting for me.”

“If this is what the angels amount to, no wonder one of yours turned to Abaddon,” Shemyaza snapped. “What he’s going to unleash, you’ll never stop without my help!”

“Who,” Dean said flatly.

“Some angel named Tabbris. He’s got a small garrison of angels but he’s not going to need them, not with what he wants out of Purgatory.”

This should’ve felt like a victory, having full confirmation that Tabbris was working with Abaddon and had other angels beneath him. All Lucifer felt was numb. “This is all stuff we knew,” Gabriel lied. “I’m not hearing anything that suggests you’re going to be useful.”

Shemyaza’s eyes widened. “The Leviathans—”

“We know about those too,” Castiel said, narrowing his gaze. “And several have already been dealt with.”

“They’re going to let them all out! All of the Leviathans! The new big plan involves all the Leviathans! And they’re going to be worse than before.”

“This sounds like some B-rated flick plot,” Dean said, rolling his eyes. “Leviathans 2.0. Yeah, right. There’s no way to do that.”

Even before Shemyaza spoke, however, Lucifer realized the truth. The horrible truth of what else could get pulled out into a world unprepared for devastation. “There is if Eve gets out.”

And there it was. Because of course this had to involve Eve. _We should’ve gutted her years ago,_ Gabriel prayed angrily. _Damn Dad and his penchant for locking shit away._

_The dragons,_ Lucifer prayed to Gabriel, and Gabriel cursed beneath his breath. No wonder the demons had been currying favor with the dragons: they needed them to get Eve out, and Eve would create more catastrophic monsters than before. Never mind what she might do to the Leviathans.

If she got out, and she actually managed to merge the Leviathans with something, create a whole new breed of creatures? It’d be all but impossible to pull it back.

“Why Leviathans?” Meg asked, almost curiously. “I mean, out of everything you could’ve yanked out of Hell’s backyard, why them?”

Shemyaza glanced at Lucifer and smirked, clearly regaining his equilibrium. “Because everyone knows it’s the one thing the archangels have never dealt with on their own. It’s the only thing they needed God himself to put away.”

There were a host of implications there that Lucifer couldn’t parse out. The only thing that Lucifer could see was that the face of someone he’d called a friend hadn’t been a friend for a very long time. Brady had been carved out and worn like a cheap suit for a vile being. And the only reason had been to give Jess to Sam, then take her away. She’d been nothing but a pawn, disposable and worth little to nothing in the end.

This time he didn’t hesitate, just raised his hand and snapped his fingers. Shemyaza screamed in agony as he burned away, leaving the body behind. When the darkness had gone, there was no flicker of anything left. Brady _was_ gone, then, and had been for a long time. There was nothing left.

The taste of ashes filled his mouth and he turned, stumbled, and fled.

Outside, the air was cold and bitter and the best thing he’d ever smelled. Part of him ached to fly away, to nurse his wounds in private, but then suddenly he could see her smile, sitting beside him as they listened to Brady talk about what he would do after college, nudging Sam towards the law degree, _You’re smarter than you know, just go for it,_ and it hadn’t been Brady at all.

His knees hit gravel and he gagged on the taste of ashes that wouldn’t leave him. He heaved but it wasn’t sickness, it was a sob, and then another, wracking through him and leaving him full of the tears he’d never let himself shed.

For Jess. For Brady. For Dad. For Dean. For Sidria.

Hands pulled him in and buried his face against a rough coat before his face hit the ground, the plaid beneath it soft, well-worn, and familiar. Lucifer’s Grace stepped aside and let Sam break in his big brother’s embrace. Tears flooded down his face as he wailed, his chest wracked with the force of his sobs. Through it all, a steady voice around him whispered, “I’m here. I’ve got you. It’s okay, Sammy. It’s okay.”

It didn’t feel like it, but Dean hadn’t steered him wrong yet. For now, he’d have to believe that.

When he finally pulled away, swollen eyes still filled with tears, the demons out front had vanished. Gabriel stood behind Dean, wings out to give them privacy. His face was as solemn as Sam had ever seen it, and his Grace was tinged with sorrow and guilt. _I knew there were a handful of demons on campus, but I wasn’t around when everything went down. I’m sorry, Samshine._

Sam shook his head. It wasn’t Gabriel’s fault. He felt more like it was his, that he should’ve known that Brady’s sudden descent into parties and failing grades had been more than just his friend being wild.

“Not your fault,” Dean said, and Sam blinked. Dean snorted. “I don’t need to read your mind to read your face. This wasn’t your fault.”

Gabriel stepped aside to reveal Castiel and Meg off in a nearby corner, having a long conversation. Neither looked happy, but they didn’t look angry. Pensive. Talking things over, running the strategy that Sam couldn’t bear to consider right then and there.

“Tell me what’ll help,” Dean said quietly. “We need to take a break, we take a break.”

“I’ll help you both get to wherever you want to go,” Gabriel said immediately. “Norway’s great this time of year. I’ll find you a place wherever you want to go.”

Beneath it all was the very steady love that they kept throwing at him. All he wanted to do was return it, but right then and there, he felt too broken to do it.

His fingers tightened in Dean’s jacket. “Just stay,” he said, and he hoped it was enough to tell them. “You both here with me, that’s, that’s more than enough. Just stay.”

If Gabriel’s Grace was anything to go by, never mind Dean’s brighter than usual soul, they’d heard just fine. “Not going anywhere,” Dean promised.

A few moments later, the gravel crunched ahead of them as Meg and Castiel wandered over. Sam wiped unsteady hands over his face to try and clear it as best as he could. He wasn’t really sure if he could handle standing at the moment. His legs didn’t feel steady. Nothing about him felt steady.

Screw it. He slid from his knees to the side and settled into the gravel. Dean just shifted to join him, and Gabriel took a step aside to let the other two in. Their own circle of trust, just for him.

There was nothing he wouldn’t do for them.

“I know Crowley’s not involved,” Meg said. She crossed her arms and let out a long sigh that frosted the air. “Trust me, I’d be the first to tell you to take the douche out, just because he irritates me, but he’s not involved. He almost died when the Leviathans came through.”

She paused, then smirked. “Which he probably wouldn’t want you to know. Oops.”

“That’s nice of you,” Dean said, giving her a fake grin. “Remind me not to ever tell you anything.”

“Aw, Deankins, and I thought we had something special.”

“Please don’t antagonize him,” Castiel told her. “I’d have to listen to it later.”

“Spoilsport,” Gabriel told him.

“Whose side are you on? Either of you?” Dean asked incredulously, and Sam couldn’t help it. He let out a snort, a helpless chuckle, and his eyes didn’t burn as much.

Castiel smiled at him, like his whole point had been to get Sam to smile, and the grief faded a little more.

“I don’t think we got too much news out of him,” Gabriel said, switching topics and graciously giving Sam a chance to really pull himself together. “Tabbris is the new king of the hill, and it sounds like he’s taking the page out of Metatron’s book.”

“Tabbris wouldn’t be clever enough to run this on his own,” Castiel agreed. “He’s taking everything from Metatron.”

“We need the bunker locked down,” Dean said. “Lucifer cleaned up enough of Tabbris’s garrison that he’s still licking his wounds, but he won’t wait long. If he’s serious about pulling Eve out, then he needs a lot more oomph than what Heaven had access to. They need a lot of rare and random things for that spell. Father sort of figured that none of those things would ever, you know, wind up in a single place.”

“Phoenix ashes for starters,” Sam finally said, his voice rough. “There’s two jars of them in the bunker. I saw them.”

The mood dimmed a little at that. “So, lock it down, wherever it is,” Meg finally said. “That’ll keep Eve off the board.”

“There’s always the Leviathans,” Castiel said. “Is that…true? What he said? That the only way they were sealed back up was because God stepped in?”

It burned to admit, and it was clear that Dean and Gabriel were both uncertain of giving the truth with Meg standing there. Not that she was likely to forget what Shemyaza had said, anyway. Sam cleared his throat. “It’s true. We handled everything else except for the Leviathans. We couldn’t do it on our own. So Father stepped in.”

Meg just snorted. “Figures. What is it with dads leaving messes and then rarely dealing with them? I mean, c’mon. He made them. He should’ve dealt with them, which, by the way, what in the hell was he thinking, making them?”

“They were meant to be crowd control,” Gabriel said, shrugging. “After the flood nearly wiped out all the trees and flowers, never mind the freshwater dwellers, he needed a new way to deal with humanity when times got rough. Except that the Leviathans ate, well. Everything. Including angels.”

They’d sealed the Leviathans away with God’s help. Not long after that, he’d sealed away Amara. And Lucifer had gotten the Mark.

_Dealing with the Leviathans probably gave him the idea,_ Gabriel thought, and Sam couldn’t disagree with him.

“Yeah, well, we didn’t have the same weapons then that we do now,” Dean said. He rose from the ground and extended a hand to Sam. “Raph’s got a sword, Gabriel’s got a stick—”

“And a decent one, if the rumors are true,” Meg said, grinning when Gabriel muttered something under his breath and flipped her off.

“—and I’ve got a weapon, too. I just need to find it. And I think our best way of finding it is with a certain redheaded angel back at Bobby’s.”

Sam took Dean’s hand and let his brother pull him to standing. His grief still sat in his chest, heavy and ugly, but Dean had given him a mystery, a puzzle to tease at, and just like Dean had figured, he wouldn’t be able to leave it be. “Anna? Why Anna?” he asked.

Dean smiled at him. “Because there were two angels with me when I gave the weapon to the guy. One was Uriel, who’s obviously not able to help. And the other one was Anna.”

A lead. It felt good. And it gave Sam a direction to aim at in the wake of all the loss.

He realized suddenly that no one had said anything because they were all staring at him. Waiting for him to decide what happened next. His eyes somehow managed to make new tears and he blinked them away. “I’d say it’s time to get back, then. And we still need to do what Crowley wanted us to do.”

“You and I can do that,” Gabriel told him. “Then Dean can talk to Anna.”

It was a testament to Dean that he only hesitated for a minute before nodding. “Two birds, one stone. We can do that.”

“We’ll be quick,” Sam promised him. As quick as they could be with whatever Crowley had waiting for them. Shemyaza had been trying to divide their loyalties, but he was too late on that. Dean trusted Crowley, and that meant Sam did, too. Besides, as far as Gabriel and Raphael had told them, the transference lines had worked beautifully. Crowley wasn’t out to get them. Especially since they were probably the rare angels who weren’t looking to run him through the instant they saw him.

Sam realized that Meg had disappeared a moment before Dean did. “She’ll be back,” Gabriel said knowingly. “We’ve got that sweet lovin’ she can’t do without.”

Castiel just rolled his eyes. Sam shared a smile with Dean. “Ready?” he asked.

“Yeah,” Dean said. “But you two damn well better be careful. Call me if you need to.”

It made Sam’s Grace and soul warm, to know that Dean would always come for him. No Grace, no wings, it didn’t matter. Dean would find a way. “I promise,” he said, and they all took off for Bobby’s.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shemyaza is, in lore and church canon, a fallen angel/demon who runs tightly in the same circle as Azazel. The demon possessing Brady was never named, so I found a suitable candidate.


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for this taking a bit longer to put out than I wanted it to. Having to revise how many chapters there are going to be, and have been working pretty hard on my original fiction.

The instant they landed, Dean found a certain red-headed angel in front of him. “I need to speak with you,” she said.

“Good timing,” he told her. “I needed to talk to you, too—”

“In private,” she said, and Dean frowned in confusion until he saw the blush in her cheeks. Oh. Yeah, he’d figured they’d be having a talk about _that_ sooner rather than later.

“That’s our cue,” Sam said immediately, catching hold of Gabriel’s shoulder just as his youngest brother began to protest.

“Aw, c’mon, I wanted front-row seats—”

They disappeared a moment later, leaving only Castiel to stand there, shifting uncomfortably. “Um. I should. Go check on, the, uh, wall,” he stammered, then turned and walked down the hall. When he realized that left him with Bobby’s bedroom and a bathroom, he paused.

“Send him up here!” called Jo’s voice, and Castiel quickly hurried for the stairs. A moment later, a door opened and slammed shut upstairs.

Dean pinched the bridge of his nose. “Subtle, guys,” he muttered. “Very subtle.”

“I may have indicated that I needed to talk to you,” Anna admitted. “Bobby took a very, very good guess as to why. He’s out in the garage with Rufus and Ezekiel. I think he’s trying to teach Ezekiel how a vehicle works.”

Which left Ellen and Jo upstairs. “Anael still hasn’t come back with Raphael, but I did talk to them both and they’re fine,” she added. “Hannah and Nathaniel are keeping watch.”

“You were always one of the most organized angels I knew,” Dean said, and Anna gave a wry grin.

“I just don’t want to lose anyone else. Not if I can help it. Especially since…since Sidria was essentially on me.”

Dean shook his head before she’d even finished, because of course Anna would think that. “You were poisoned, Anna. There wasn’t much you could’ve done. Which, by the way, how the hell did that happen?”

She sighed and leaned against the back of the nearby sofa. “Ariniel found me. She promised that I would be welcomed back, now that Zachariah was dead. Heaven was better. I’d be safe. I met with Tabbris and he told me that everyone’s transgressions were being forgiven. Castiel’s, mine. I just needed to do one thing first.”

“Sit in a chair and let them put a hole in your Grace,” Dean summed up, anger burning under his skin at the mention of Zachariah and that damn needle. It’d done a lot of damage, but none more than to Lucifer. It had ultimately burned away all of his Grace.

Heylel was whole again, though. He was safe. Dean tried to shake it off. “I’m glad you’re all right,” he told her honestly.

She sighed. “I never should’ve believed him. But in the end, all I wanted was to come home. I let that outweigh everything else, especially since all the archangels were restored. And Sidria and Naomi paid the price.”

“Tabbris did that, not you,” Dean said firmly. “Look, I’m happy to blame myself, too. But it wasn’t you, it wasn’t Luce.” And probably wasn’t his fault, either, but that was so hard to let go of. “It was Tabbris. When we find him, we’ll get justice.”

Anna nodded firmly, eyes flashing with her Grace. “I’m looking forward to it.”

Silence fell, but it wasn’t awkward, just full of hesitation. Dean pursed his lips and went for it. “I doubt that’s what you wanted to talk to me about, though.”

“Not really,” she admitted. She snorted and shook her head. “Dean, what we did before we discovered who you really were…”

He refused to blush. He _refused_. He was Dean freaking Winchester, and he was not going to blush over what had been an incredible night. Then her wording struck him and he paused. “So you didn’t know that I was really meant to be Michael’s vessel?”

“I wasn’t exactly on the vessel selection committee,” she said dryly. “No. I had no idea. I wouldn’t have if I’d known.”

“Angels have fallen in love before, Anna,” he said quietly. It was a conversation he’d had numerous times over the centuries with various angels. It just wasn’t one he’d ever had to have with himself. “It’s not forbidden.”

“But never with an archangel,” she said, crossing her arms. “You know that. You’re our mentors, our older brothers—”

“Mentors, yes. Actual siblings, not really,” he said. It was something he’d sat with and thought about ever since Anna had reappeared. “My siblings are Gabriel, Raphael, and Lucifer. We share the same level of Grace. We call everyone else family because we think of most of you that way.”

“Not all?” Anna asked, lips turning up.

Dean snorted. “No, not all. Though I think our night was a one and done.”

The smile he got was soft and a little sad. “I spent the evening with Dean Winchester,” she said. “That’s who I wanted to be with. Not Michael.”

That was more than fair. “It _was_ a good night,” he said, and her smile turned up a lot more.

“No complaints here.”

He gave a laugh, unable to help himself. “We’re good, then?”

“We’re good,” she said. “What did you want to talk to _me_ about?”

Oh yeah. “Remember when I gifted a blade to humanity?”

“I do, yes. Why?”

“Thinking it might help with the Leviathans.”

Anna’s eyes went wide. “ _Leviathans_? They’re out?”

She’d been a tool for Tabbris, nothing more. Kept in the dark and used when he’d needed her. It made Dean want to punch him even more. “Long story. Abaddon punched a hole in Hell and let about a hundred of them out. We’ve dealt with two for the time being. I’m hoping we can level the playing field.”

Her eyes had gone wider and wider, but she quickly pulled herself back together to answer him. “It should, but why are you asking me about it?”

Dean just raised an eyebrow. It didn’t take Anna long. “Oh,” she said, and there was sorrow in her voice. “Is your Grace…gone for good?”

A rush of wings heralded someone’s arrival. “No,” Raphael said firmly. “It’s going to come back. But until then, since you were blessed to help carry it to its intended human, you can help us find the sword.”

“I’ll find it,” she said immediately. “As soon as I do, I’ll be back.” She began to straighten her shoulders, a clear sign of readying to take off.

“Hold on,” Raphael said, throwing his hands up. “Not so fast. I need to put the spell on you first.”

Anna paused, then frowned. “Spell?”

The clinking sound of bottles made Dean turn to where Anael stood, waving bottles around. “We’ve got enough for everyone,” she said. “No more anti-banishing sigils here.”

That made him feel a hell of a lot better. No more getting tossed out of a fight. So far, they’d been lucky, but too many people could find that sigil and use it against them. The faster they were protected, the better. “Anna first, then the angels that are here,” he said.

He got a frown from Raphael at that. “What do you mean, the angels that are here?” Then, frown deepening, he demanded, “Where are Lucifer and Gabriel?”

“Filling Crowley’s request,” Dean said. “I wasn’t thrilled about letting them go either, but it gave Sam something to focus on.” Something he’d desperately needed. Shemyaza had been an unwelcome surprise all around, but to see the asshat wearing the face of one of the few friends Sam had held close during his Stanford years, that had been a double blow. Never mind what he’d said about Sam, tearing at him when he’d been lost at Stanford.

_I don’t know how many times he picked up the damn phone and could never finish calling his brother. He didn’t talk to anyone on his own._

It made Dean seethe. He’d known that Sam had nearly called him a few times, but to hear it laid out like that, scouring at Sam’s soul and ripping it open for everyone to see, it made him want to kill Shemyaza.

“I assume someone _did_ end the demon?” Raphael said, eyes awash in furious Grace. Guess he’d been thinking pretty hard.

“Yeah. Lucifer did.”

“Good,” Anael said viciously. Thinking _very_ hard, if he was projecting to the room at large. Even Anna looked pissed, and he had no doubt Castiel and Ezekiel were thinking angry thoughts. And Cas had been there to witness it.

Anna shook her head, anger clear. “Lucifer didn’t deserve that.”

“No,” Dean said, pursing his lips. “No, he didn’t.” But he was grateful at the same time: not only was that wound possibly cleaned enough to heal right, it was another clear indicator for Lucifer that he was loved and wanted.

Why the hell was his brother never around when these moments happened?

_I’ll make sure to tell him,_ Raphael promised, and Dean nodded.

The doors upstairs opened around the same time the front door did, reminding them that Raphael had returned for a purpose. Anna received the spell first, making a slight face at the clear scent of Leviathan blood, but when the goo faded away to nothing, she seemed far more appreciative. “I’ll go with you,” Anael said, but Anna shook her head.

“Stay with them here. Keep them safe.” She gave Anael a quick grin. “That’s worth far more to me than my own safety.”

“Then call if you need us,” Raphael insisted. Anna blinked, clearly taken aback, but then her grin shifted into a bright smile.

“I will. Thank you, Raphael.” She disappeared in a brief gust of wind that sent Ellen and Jo’s hair flying.

Ezekiel went next at Castiel’s insistence, and then Castiel received the spell. Dean took a breath at last whenever the spell finished. “Everyone’s got it, then?” he asked.

“Except Lucifer and Gabriel,” Raphael said. “And you. I have enough set aside for you when you get your Grace back.”

It was so matter of fact that Dean couldn’t help but feel a little surer of it himself. When, not if.

Though it could show up at any time, honestly. Lucifer had his back already: when the hell was his coming back online? _Quit playing peekaboo already and show up,_ he thought to himself. Predictably, nothing happened.

Raphael suddenly stiffened, eyes going wide. “What’s wrong?” Dean asked immediately, because that was a bad look on Raphael’s face. The sort of look that came with a younger brother in trouble.

Why the hell had he let both little brothers go off on their own?

“Gabriel,” Raphael said tightly. “In Scotland.”

His eyes met Dean’s, and the fear was evident. “Leviathans.”

It took all of two minutes for everyone to get what they need and take off. And Dean was still afraid that it was two minutes too long.

“A graveyard? He sent us to a graveyard? Well that’s not ominous or anything.”

He got Lucifer to roll his eyes at the very least. “Crowley’s not going to kill us.”

“You seem awfully confident of that,” Gabriel pointed out. There was moss growing everywhere and a bog not too far away. It wasn’t bright out because of course it wasn’t, it looked ready to rain at a moment’s notice, and his shoes were sinking. He definitely wanted a spa treatment after this.

“Can you focus?” Lucifer asked wearily, clearly trying to work. Gabriel’s favorite time to irritate any of his siblings, especially Lucifer, because that meant his big brother wasn’t overthinking things. Like demons who gave him the sweetest, nicest woman in the world, only to burn her away.

Gabriel felt his Grace flare angrily and shoved it down as hard as he could. “I wish you’d let me kill him,” he grumbled.

That earned him a wry grin at least. “Now you know how I felt when you took out Asmodeus on your own.”

All right, that was fair. “What the hell does the King of Hell want from a graveyard that he can’t get himself?” Gabriel mused. It looked like a family plot of sorts, graves that hadn’t been touched in centuries. He peered at one and saw a faded _MacLeod_ on one of the stones. “And why _do_ you trust him so damn much?”

“Dean trusts him,” Lucifer said simply. “And I’d rather he be in charge than someone else.”

Another fair point. Why the hell did his big brother have to be so damn logical all the time? It was annoying, honestly. “Still don’t know why we’re here and not kicking back on Bobby’s new velvet sofa.”

“Bobby doesn’t have a velvet sofa,” Lucifer said, sounding nine types of confused.

“Not yet he doesn’t.”

“Don’t you dare.”

Still, it made Lucifer grin, and Gabriel would take it. Anything to keep the memory of Shemyaza wearing his friend’s face away. Or the memory of Jess, the woman whose only sin had been loving Sam Winchester.

There were a lot of times Gabriel wished he’d stepped in and intervened. That was just one of them.

Lucifer tapped his wing against one of the headstones, pulling his attention back. “This is it,” he said. “It has to be.” He ran a few feathers against the ground, enough for Gabriel to smell the scent of holy water and what was possibly salt. “It’s the only grave that’s been blessed.”

And thus the only grave that Crowley couldn’t get to. “’Fergus MacLeod’,” Gabriel read off the headstone. “What a name. Who the hell lives with a name like that? And what could he have had that Crowley wanted?”

“Let’s find out,” Lucifer said. He snapped his fingers and the dirt neatly piled next to the grave. He shook his head a little. “If only I’d had that ability for all those years,” he muttered.

The grave wasn’t much. Clothes had disappeared over time, and the only thing that remained were bones. Gabriel peered forward with both eyes and Grace, trying to seek out what in the grave Crowley could possibly want. It didn’t make any sense.

And then his Grace brushed against the bones and he paused. No way. No _way_.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Lucifer said incredulously, catching on his thoughts. “These are _his_?”

“I mean, Crowley’s a better name than Fergus,” Gabriel pointed out. “But still. Wow. Ballsy as hell to send us.” Gabriel had to assume that sheer desperation had made the demon send them to his own remains. Because the amount of power they held was insane.

They could control Crowley with these, make him do whatever they wanted if just to keep the bones safe. The trickster in him thought about it.

The archangel didn’t even hesitate in pulling out a bag to put them in. Lucifer’s lips turned up in real amusement at the sight of the “Big Kid!” emblem on the outside of the bag, complete with rocket ships and numbers. “What?” Gabriel said. “I was all out of mysterious leather bags. It was on clearance.”

They carefully gathered up all of the bones down to the last metacarpal, then zipped the bag shut. “Guess we’re making a pit stop in Hell first,” Lucifer said.

“No need.”

Gabriel wasn’t even surprised at that point. While Crowley couldn’t touch the grave, that didn’t mean he couldn’t supervise from, say, right behind them. “Well, that saves us time,” Gabriel said cheerfully, turning to where Crowley was waiting for them. “I assume you’d like your things?”

“A quid pro quo for Shemyaza,” Crowley said, hands in the pockets of his tailored suit jacket. “You made quick work of him, from what my employees told me.”

Lucifer just narrowed his gaze. “If you’d wanted him around for longer, then you should’ve been there.”

They got a raised eyebrow for that. “I’ve no need for him. He didn’t tell me anything I hadn’t already known. Abaddon, Leviathans, bad angels. Blah, blah, blah. I’m hoping you did get something more out of him, but if you didn’t, at least you had the satisfaction of ending him. Which, I hope, is more than enough payment for that bag you’re holding.” His eyes darted to the bag and he gave a resigned scowl. “Though you may still owe me something if you’re going to give them to me in that.”

“Oh no, the bag’s yours free of charge,” Gabriel said with relish as he handed the bag over. And then, because he couldn’t help himself, “No bones about it.”

Crowley’s scowl deepened to a glorious glare, fit to set lesser people on fire. Lucifer’s Grace flared in brief amusement before settling back down. Gabriel just grinned and tucked the moment away as a memory to cherish later.

Lucifer ruined it by turning it back to Shemyaza, the spoilsport. “He told us that they want to raise Eve.”

Crowley’s eyebrows went to his hairline. “Pardon my French, but what the ever-loving fuck _for_?”

“Something about upgrading the Leviathans.” Lucifer glanced at Gabriel, a quick, _He does need to know,_ sent his way, and Gabriel’s quick nod in return. Yeah, he sort of really did. His surprise had definitely been genuine, and ignorance was enough to get someone killed. Keeping him in the dark helped no one. “We think they might have near to everything they need to get her out.”

“Can she do it?” Crowley asked immediately. “I understand that she was quite the inventor, but I don’t know the full extent of her powers.”

“She’d be a quick study,” Gabriel admitted. “So keeping her contained is sort of a thing.”

Crowley slowly began to nod. “What would they need? Hell’s got a not-so-small stash of valuable and rare artifacts. I haven’t even been in there to check and see if the Leviathans took anything.”

Oh dammit, Gabriel hadn’t even considered that being a reason for Abaddon blowing the hole to Purgatory in Hell itself. “How close were they to that stash?” Lucifer asked tightly.

Crowley’s face said it all. “So they took something,” Gabriel said, pinching the bridge of his nose. “They could have everything they need to raise her right now.”

“What would they need?” Crowley asked again.

That, unfortunately, Gabriel wasn’t entirely certain of, but Lucifer was bound to know. Sure enough, his big brother delivered. “It was set up sort of like the seals. There were a lot of ways to get her out, but a few necessities that at one point were scattered across the globe. Dragon scales, phoenix ashes. They need a virgin to be her vessel.”

“And the bones of a demon.”

Gabriel whipped around. There, standing several graves away, was a young man in a business suit. When he tilted his head back for a moment, his entire head opened, revealing rows of teeth and a bottomless pit of a mouth.

_Raphael we need help, now,_ Gabriel prayed without thought. Guess it was time to test out whether Raphael’s katana could actually do some damage.

The Leviathan’s head slid back to human in appearance. “I apologize,” he said, voice saccharine with a too-sweet smile to boot. “I’m just so hungry. We’ve been waiting and waiting to feast.”

“We?” Gabriel said, and wished he hadn’t. Several Leviathans moved towards them, forming a tight circle of human-like bodies. He counted at least ten, and he fought to keep his Grace from shuddering. His blade slid into his hand, nearly useless against so many of them.

_Raphael, there’s almost a dozen Leviathans here, hurry,_ he urged. Lucifer’s own blade was out and his wings quickly shoved Crowley between him and Gabriel. Crowley held tight to the bag, glaring at the Leviathans. He wasn’t cowed, Gabriel would give him that much.

“Hand the bag over, if you please,” the first Leviathan said. “Minimal fuss would be appreciated.”

“Would you let us go?” Lucifer asked, Grace flaring in his eyes.

The Leviathan snorted. “Not a chance. But I’d eat you very quickly instead of taking my time stripping the flesh from your bones.”

This was about to go sideways in the world’s worst way very, _very_ quickly. “Dammit Raph, we need you, and we need you now,” he muttered under his breath. Lucifer’s thoughts were rapid as always but repeating the same thing, over and over, and Gabriel growled at him. “And you can knock it off – I’m not going anywhere.”

“Gabe,” Lucifer said tightly, and Gabriel shook his head fiercely. He wasn’t abandoning Lucifer to a certain death. Not now, not ever.

The sudden, swift breeze brought with it a lot of familiar Graces, and Gabriel felt his wings ripple with relief. On the outside of the circle stood Raphael with Anael, as well as Castiel and Ezekiel. Hannah and Nathaniel were there, too, and between them stood four all-too familiar humans. In front of them was one mostly human, leaning towards his never-present Grace, big brother.

And in Raphael’s hand was his katana.

“Hey assholes,” Dean called, and he raised the Colt high. “I want to see if this is going to work. Who wants to indulge me first?”


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ta-da! Magical new chapter update is magically here! For a few people who've been having a rough time of it and begged for another chapter.

To be honest, Dean had actually been hoping for something like this to happen.

Not that he wanted Sam or Gabriel in danger. In fact, it was the absolute last thing he wanted, and he would’ve given any number of limbs if he could guarantee that they’d _never_ be in danger again. He’d give his life for it, if he were being completely honest.

But he’d known the Leviathans would strike again. And against numerous archangels, seraphs, and hunters, well, it was ten times better than against civilians, or some unsuspecting town.

And the King of Hell being there couldn’t hurt, though if someone had to die today, Dean was definitely hoping it was him.

But the biggest reason that Dean had been looking forward to a showdown was completely personal. Because the last time they’d faced off against a host of enemies, Sam had gotten his Grace back. Dean was sort of hoping it was his turn this time.

The Leviathans didn’t look the slightest bit concerned. That was always a bad sign. There were probably about a dozen of them around: also a bad sign.

One of the Leviathans, copying a young man with a nice-looking suit, moved towards Sam and Gabriel. Dean didn’t hesitate, just fired off a shot straight through his head. The Leviathan lurched, stumbled, and hit the ground. Down, but probably not out. He’d take it.

“Not possible,” another Leviathan hissed, turning its attention to Dean. “There’s no man-made weapon that can take us on.”

“How about a bullet coated in Borax?” Dean said cheerfully. “Almost like salt in the wound.”

Another Leviathan nearby just grinned, the smile nearly stretching ear to ear. Her eyes roved over the group, staying particularly close to where Ellen and Bobby were standing. “Nice of you to bring us some food. We’re _starving_.”

“We’ve been waiting to eat,” another said. “Waiting to eat for _so_ long. When we saw two little archangels all by themselves, well, we’re not supposed to but we couldn’t help ourselves.”

Bobby just hefted up the plastic tank attached to the weed hose. “Brought some seasoning, but you might be allergic,” he drawled. “Looking forward to findin’ out.”

How Bobby had managed to find the time to load up so many weeding tanks, or even _have_ the damn things, Dean didn’t know. But he was grateful that they were there all the same. He’d declined one and let Rufus keep two, just in case. He’d only needed the Colt.

He glanced at his youngest brothers. Neither of them looked hurt, which meant they’d gotten there in time. He didn’t let himself breathe in relief, but his shoulders came down a little. Not out of danger, still in the middle of a circle of Leviathans.

One of the Leviathans had been creeping up slowly, and Sam whirled, catching the Leviathan with a blade. An instant later, the Leviathan went flying backwards, straight into a tree where it stayed, impaled on a long branch. “Stay there,” Lucifer growled, his eyes flashing red.

Everything after that was chaos. Dean clutched the next rounds for the Colt in his fist as he dove forward, placing bullet after bullet into Leviathan skulls. Castiel stayed flanked on his right, and Ellen kept to his left. Between an angel blade, Borax solution, and the Colt, they managed to keep the Leviathans down and out of the way.

Around them, Leviathans screamed in pain. Clearly the Borax was doing its job. A path suddenly emerged straight to Lucifer and Gabriel, with Crowley between them. The King’s eyes were bloody red and full of fury. In one hand he held a broadsword, and in the other—

Oh that was definitely Gabriel’s doing. Dean grinned despite the situation. “Sam!” he shouted, catching his brother’s attention. “C’mon!”

Lucifer caught hold of Gabriel and Crowley and tugged them after him. A Leviathan slowly crawled up from the ground and Dean greeted it with another bullet to the head. That was him down, then. He quickly began reloading just as Lucifer and Gabriel reached him. “Ready for your first day of school, Crowley?” Dean asked.

“Fuck off,” Crowley muttered. Gabriel let out a laugh and Lucifer’s grin was all delighted little brother.

“Zeke!”

Dean turned too late at Jo’s scream. A Leviathan had hold of Ezekiel by what looked like his wing, keeping him pinned as the cavernous mouth went for his neck. Dean’s too-slow human hand raised the Colt, desperate enough to try.

A sudden flash of light made him wince, but it passed quickly. When it did, the Leviathan that had caught Ezekiel stumbled back, staggering in clear pain. An instant later, its head tumbled from its body. Raphael swung his blade around again, clearly waiting.

But the Leviathan didn’t try to reattach itself. Rather, the body began to melt away to goo, and the goo burned to nothing. Dead. The Leviathan was actually _dead_.

When Raphael raised his gaze to the other Leviathans, all of them frozen and staring, his eyes were the brightest blue Dean had ever seen. “Next,” he growled.

For a moment, there was silence. Then they shrieked, loud enough to make Dean want to cover his ears, and they dove off for the skies in a swirl of black clouds. Only two remained, not quite recovered from the Borax and Colt.

Raphael flew over and made quick work of them both, and they disintegrated neatly. “ _Nice_ ,” Gabriel said, dragging the vowel out. “Very nice, Raph.”

“They’re actually dead, right?” Rufus called. “They aren’t coming back?”

Dean glanced at the goo. Well, smoke was really all it was, at this point. “That’s dead,” Sam told him. “Very dead.”

“Ceased to exist,” Dean couldn’t help but add.

“Expired,” Sam added with a grin.

“Pining for the Fjords,” Gabriel tossed in.

Ellen glared at them all. “Enough already. As long as they’re dead, that’s all I care about.” She gave Raphael a proud smile. “You did a damn good job, Raphael.”

The warrior disappeared, leaving behind an archangel with a soft smile. “Thank you, Ellen. The sword was a gamble, one that appears to have paid off. We’re all here, yes?” he called out to the group.

Bobby was missing his hat but appeared to be searching for it. Rufus looked like some weed exterminator with both packs on his back, but otherwise didn’t seem harmed. Ezekiel and Anael both had black goo on their blades, as did Hannah and Nathaniel. Jo also seemed unharmed, but she wasn’t exactly crowing, either. She looked almost numb, face blank and stare empty. Ezekiel seemed to have noticed what Dean had and moved towards her, concern on his face. Before he could touch her, however, Jo neatly sidestepped him and went to check on Bobby.

“I saw that coming,” Gabriel said quietly, and Dean gave a nod. Too many close calls, too much too soon. “I’ll talk with her.”

“No.”

Dean glanced at Sam, who also had his eyes on Jo. “No,” he said again. “Ezekiel needs to talk to her. We can give him advice, but it’s got to be him.”

“Sam’s right,” Dean agreed. “They need to work it out on their own.” And Ezekiel needed to hear from her why she was acting the way she was.

Crowley cleared his throat. “While this is all rather romantic and catastrophically sweet, what I’d like to know is why I nearly got eaten by a dozen Leviathans.”

“They knew what you were looking for,” Sam said succinctly. “And they knew sooner or later, you’d come for it. Or have someone, one of us, come for it.” He frowned, brain clearly going into overtime. “What I don’t understand is what they said. They were starving. Have been starving. But they haven’t been gorging themselves or eating people. What did he say? They weren’t supposed to?”

“Nothing’s been on my radar,” Bobby agreed, coming over to join them. Jo quickly stepped in to stand by Ellen, and while Ellen didn’t say anything, she did raise an eyebrow at her daughter. Looked like Ellen was on Ezekiel’s side this time around. “Rufus and I have had our ears to the ground and haven’t gotten a damn thing.”

“We figured if they were eating people, it wouldn’t just be one, it’d be a whole bunch at once,” Rufus said. “Like a whole block full of missing persons. Nothing.”

“We’ve not seen anything either,” Nathaniel agreed. He glanced at Hannah, who looked just as grim-faced as he did. “This, however, we saw from above. Even before Raphael called us, we saw them.”

No one looked particularly enthused about that information. “They’re biding their time,” Dean summed up. “I think I like that less than if they were just randomly eating people.”

“Careful, Squirrel, you’re showing your archangel,” Crowley said, and it took a minute for Dean to realize he was talking to _him_. Why was he a squirrel?

Beside him, Gabriel snorted. “Pretty sure that makes you Boris, Crowley.”

Even as Dean suddenly realized why Crowley had been calling Sam a moose, and even as he realized what that made _him_ , Sam’s lips turned up. “Better than Fergus.”

Crowley’s face went a beautiful shade of red, staving off Dean’s own irritation. “They’re all here?” Crowley managed to get out, still red as a tomato.

“Every last one,” Sam assured him.

Crowley narrowed his gaze. “You could’ve kept one.”

“We could’ve, yeah,” Sam agreed. The unspoken, _But we didn’t,_ only seemed to make Crowley scowl all the more.

Figured: Sam and Gabriel had risked their lives for him and he wasn’t even going to thank them. “How come you’ve never gotten them before?” Gabriel asked, raising an eyebrow.

“I wasn’t aware of them until Abaddon let slip that she knew where they were,” Crowley said. He clutched the backpack and broadsword before sighing. “Thank you both. Bloody do-gooders.” He disappeared in an instant, silent as could be.

“The hell was in the bag?” Bobby demanded as soon as he was gone.

“His bones,” Gabriel supplied. Ah: now it made all the world of sense as to why Crowley had wanted them. And why Crowley hadn’t wanted any of Hell to know where they were. No wonder he’d been so touchy. In the wrong hands, that was a fast way to lose his throne.

Sam seemed lost in thought again. “You okay?” Dean asked.

A slow nod. “Just a lot to unpack.” He glanced at Dean, and there was a sliver of disappointment in there, the kind that he’d seen a lot from Sam when they’d grown up and had to leave another place. The resigned sort that came from hoping too much. “Still no Grace?”

So Dean hadn’t been the only one wishing it would come through. “Not yet,” he said, trying to sound upbeat. “Just late to the party.”

Sam took a breath in, then out, as if readying himself to say something. Dean felt himself almost bracing for impact. Some sympathetic words, or worse yet, Sam saying nothing at all.

But when Sam met his gaze, there was that stubborn determination in them, along with the spark that was pure Sammy. “Like you’ve ever been punctual in your entire life.”

It was the jab he hadn’t known he’d needed. His grin felt a little too manic but hey, he’d managed to knock out at least five Leviathans and save his little brothers and the King of Hell. As far as he was concerned, he was allowed a little adrenaline come-down. “I’m always right on time.”

“Whose time?” Bobby asked, raising an eyebrow. “The only thing you’re not late for is dinner.”

“I get there exactly when I need to,” he defended.

“Isn’t that what your girlfriends complain about?” Sam asked, almost innocently, and Dean’s mouth fell open. Gabriel snorted, _loudly_ , and Dean was suddenly done with them all.

“Frigging bitch,” he muttered.

Sam finally grinned. “Jerk.”

That, at least, felt normal. As long as he had Sam, then he could manage the rest. And he suddenly realized that included the Grace. He could live without it. Sam had it, Sam could protect himself. As long as he had Sam? Dean could live without his.

The only thing he couldn’t live without was Sam.

Rufus squinted, glancing around. “The hell are we, anyway?”

“Scotland,” Hannah told him. She gave a soft sigh. “Isn’t it beautiful?”

“It’s wet, damp, and cold,” Rufus told her. “I should’ve known where we were. I need a drink.”

“We don’t get to be tourists?” Ellen asked, and she actually sounded disappointed. “There’s got to be a pub around here.”

“Would _you_ like to explain why we got weed killin’ gear like there’s a plant invasion?” Bobby asked her incredulously. “I got whiskey back at my place.”

Sam was getting that look on his face again, the one that said he was back to thinking about something. Something that was probably going to end up sucking. “Then let’s head out,” Dean said, and the angels moved swiftly to make sure everyone had a way back.

He wasn’t at all surprised when Sam’s hand was the one that landed on his shoulder. “You got me?” Dean asked him with a half grin.

“Together, right?”

Dean paused. “Whatever we do, we do it together,” Sam continued. “Wherever you go, I go.”

“Except without Grace,” Dean said, smiling falling. The rest had gone, leaving them alone in the silent and misty graveyard. He was pretty sure he’d spent at least half of his life in a cemetery of some sort. “That, you might have to do on your own, Sammy.”

“It’ll come back.”

“And if it doesn’t?”

Sam didn’t say anything, couldn’t. He looked like he desperately wanted to, but the truth was staring them in the face. That maybe, just maybe, Dean wasn’t going to get his back.

He gave a sigh, and that seemed to give Sam his voice back. “It’s there. It’s just weak. But it’s there. It keeps coming back.”

“Not enough to let me help,” Dean told him. “You know that’s true.”

“You’re Michael,” Sam said urgently. “You’re Dean and you’re Michael. That won’t change.”

“Maybe. But I might be Michael without Grace. I might be Fallen for good.”

Then they might not always be able to go together. It was more than he could deal with at the moment.

Sam’s fingers tightened in his shoulder, almost to the point of pain, but Dean could barely feel it. Not now.

They flew back to Bobby’s and landed without a sound.

Sam wasn’t at all surprised when Dean went straight to the car when they landed. “I’ll go get some beer,” he said. “I’m sure we’re about out.”

He wasn’t going to tell Dean that they could conjure just about anything they wanted. It was Dean hurting, Dean needing something familiar, and that meant driving aimlessly for a bit.

He also heard the, _I need time on my own,_ loud and clear. Sometimes together didn’t mean side by side; sometimes, it meant being on the same level. “Maybe milk, too,” Sam told him. “We pretty much cleaned Bobby out after those cookies.”

He got a small grin for that. “Which now adds whiskey to my list, too, after their baking.”

_Be careful_ and _Watch your back_ all hung on the tip of his tongue. “I’m a prayer away,” he finally settled on.

The smile he got wasn’t the biggest, but it was definitely genuine. “Better than cell service,” Dean told him. “I’ll call if I need help.”

That was all Sam could ask for. He watched Dean go and sat down on the stair to the porch, wishing part of him could go along for safety reasons.

_Where the hell is he going?_

“He needs a break,” he said quietly. He wasn’t at all surprised to find Gabriel suddenly beside him. “I’m giving him one.”

What did surprise him was the other angel suddenly there next to Gabriel. “I’ll go,” Hannah said, and an instant later her wings took her off down the road.

If Dean saw her, he wasn’t going to be happy about it. _Don’t let him see you, Hannah,_ he prayed, and got the Grace equivalent of a thumb’s up.

“No one should be going anywhere,” Gabriel grumbled. “Least of all the brother who doesn’t have his Grace back yet.”

Sam’s silence was too much and far too telling. Gabriel slowly turned to him, eyes narrowed. “The Grace that _will_ come back,” he said firmly. “Don’t tell me you’ve jumped on the wagon of it not coming back, too.”

“We need to at least consider the possibility,” Sam said. He hated it, he didn’t _want_ to consider it. There was Grace there, flickering in and out. But it stubbornly stayed away, refusing to come back online.

Why? Why wasn’t it coming back?

When Gabriel spoke next, it wasn’t angry or frustrated. It was actually…calm. Considering. And clearly trying to figure the puzzle out. “What did Dad tell you? That it’d come back at some point, right?”

“When it needs to, essentially,” Sam said. He closed his eyes and went back over that last conversation with Father. _Your fears are overriding your wants, your needs._ Somehow, they had to overcome their fears.

Gabriel shook his head. “I don’t think it’s just a matter of that, Luce. I think your wants and needs have to come _first_ for once. We’ve been looking at it like a wound that has to heal, but the wound’s healed. Like riding a bike: you fall off, your scratches get better. But that doesn’t mean you’re back on the bike.”

“We healed,” Sam said slowly, warming to the idea. “But whatever’s keeping us from getting back to that is in the way.” Which made sense. “You don’t think it’s about the fears?”

“Dad told you that the fears were getting in the way. But he didn’t say in the way of your Grace: in the way of your wants and needs.”

“Which is his Grace,” Sam finished. “That’s what Dean wants and needs the most. Which is why watching Dean flounder is so damn hard.” There was nothing that Dean wanted or needed more. So why wasn’t it coming back online?

He got a shrug for that. “Hey, I’m not the puzzle solver here. That’s you. I’m just trying to take a page out of your book.”

Gabriel was right: he couldn’t keep looking at it the way that he had. He needed to examine it like any other problem or puzzle: with his brain, not his heart.

Okay, that meant backing up to the start with the known entities that he had on hand. What Father had told them was one piece. Dean’s Grace coming back at various times was another. And then there was his own Grace, which was back and brighter than ever.

He’d gotten what he’d ‘wanted’ apparently. What he’d needed.

Which made no sense at all.

“Seriously?” Gabriel exclaimed, raising an eyebrow. “You’re giving up?”

“I’m not giving up,” Sam said in frustration. “I’m saying that the pieces just don’t add up. I was more terrified and anxious than I’d ever been before. We were up against the wall with Abaddon. I thought Dean was _dead_. How the hell was that what I wanted or needed?”

That, Gabriel didn’t have an answer to. His Grace sparked in fits, his own frustration showing. Sam imagined his own was looking about the same.

It didn’t make any sense. He’d hoped with hindsight, with having gotten his own Grace back, that it would make sense, reveal itself as the, “Ah ha!” type moment. Except there was nothing to be had.

And if he couldn’t see what had happened, then he couldn’t help Dean with his own Grace. He couldn’t help get his brother back to where he deserved to be.

Wings came up around him, offering support, and Sam leaned into them. “He’s resigning himself to it,” he said quietly. “It’s the same thing I saw him do the year leading up to his deal. Fighting to accept it even while I tried everything to save him.”

“I hate to tell you, Samshine, but the only thing that would’ve saved him would’ve been to die yourself,” Gabriel told him. “Then the deal would’ve been off. But they needed him to break the first seal. They’d have done anything to sink their hooks into him.”

His voice lowered even more. “It’s why I didn’t step in. I figured either he’d remember or the first seal breaking would lead to getting the Cage open. I…I hated both options. And I haven’t really forgiven myself for them.”

“He has,” Sam told him. “We talked about it, while we stayed in California. He said that when he got his Grace back, the Hell memories faded away to almost nothing. It just couldn’t compete with the ages he could recall as Michael.” He bumped his wings against Gabriel’s. “And I’m glad the Cage got broken open. Or I don’t know that we’d be here. We’d be lost if we hadn’t had you to rely on.”

His little brother’s Grace went warm. “Then keep believing me,” Gabriel said after a long moment. “Because we’re going to get Dean’s Grace back.”

Sam gave as firm a nod as he could. It was what he wanted more than anything else: his family, safe and sound. And that included Michael at his fullest glory.

Anna suddenly appeared in front of them, immediately pulling him from his thoughts. “Are you all right?” he asked.

She gave a few quick nods, and wow, that was some happy Grace. “What’s up with you?” Gabriel asked, grinning. “You get drunk without me?”

“Never,” she deadpanned, but then her own lips turned up. “Dean sent me to find Michael’s weapon. And I know where it is.”


	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a sign of how much I adore you all. Not only am I delivering a third chapter in two days' time, but it's basically all FLUFF. My god, what is the world coming to.
> 
> You're welcome.

The parking lot was empty of cars save for two parked along the side, the employees he’d met in the small grocery mart. Apparently, three in the afternoon wasn’t the world’s busiest time. Probably getting kids out of school – was it a school day? What the hell day was it, anyway?

Dean just leaned his head against the steering wheel. Another thing out of his control.

It felt like everything was out of his control these days. Leviathans, Tabbris, losing friends. And a too-big little brother who kept almost dying on him. He’d sort of hoped that Sam getting his Grace back would _stop_ that. Guess it hadn’t.

He sat back and tried to get a breath in. He needed to get back with the milk and alcohol. He’d grabbed bread just to have another aisle to wander down, then some grapes that had looked good. Then, just because he’d seen it, a package of Twizzlers. Why Sam liked them, he didn’t know, but that meant his brother wasn’t interested in his chocolate bars. His loss.

Why wasn’t his Grace coming back?

He’d grabbed some aspirin too, when he’d gotten Bobby’s text, and then eye drops at Ellen’s message. When he’d gone to pay, he realized how long it’d been since he’d pulled out his credit card that Gabriel had given him. It had been so long since he’d bought groceries, or gas, or anything. He’d done it regularly in California, in the little apartment across from Stanford. They’d just been too busy since then to go buy groceries or even really use his baby, and Gabriel had been able to pull out anything they’d needed, so they hadn’t bothered. He’d almost forgotten what wandering through a store with a rickety shopping cart felt like.

_Why_ wasn’t his Grace coming back?

To hell with Bobby, he might just pop the aspirin open himself. His headache was bordering on something a little worse, and he wasn’t sure if he had a set of sunglasses in the car anymore.

A knock on his window startled him, but Hannah’s smile made his shoulders come down. He jerked his head to the back and she slid in neatly. “I should’ve known someone would be following me,” he said wryly. “You took longer to show up than I thought.”

“Anna’s returned,” she said, making him blink. “They wanted me to tell you. She’s found your weapon.”

“She’s got it?” he asked.

Hannah made a face. “Um, not exactly. Apparently there’s enough wards around it to, how did she put it? ‘Choke whatever was bigger than a horse’?”

It made his lips turn up. “She needs someone who’s not an angel to get it.”

“That’s where you come in, yeah,” Hannah said. She shifted on the seat, and her eyes drifted all over the car. She looked sort of in awe.

He raised an eyebrow at her. “You’ve never been in a car before, have you?”

“I have my vessel’s memories,” she said, still looking around. “And I’ve seen plenty of vehicles moving throughout the world. But no, I’ve never personally been in one before. I wondered how my wings would work, confined to the space, but they’re tucked behind me.” She sounded pleased about it.

He hadn’t exactly asked Castiel, nor really thought about it himself when he’d had wings. He’d just…gotten in. But wings existed on their own plane, not really in the world but not really out of it. “Curiosity satisfied?”

She paused, just long enough for Dean to snort. “Yeah, you can ride back with me.”

Hannah’s smile was positively radiant. He’d have to give the other angels a ride at some point. The Impala was the best transportation they’d ever experience. And possibly the only transportation he’d have left to him, too.

He cleared his throat and started the car. “Where’d she find it?”

“She didn’t say,” Hannah said, softer now. When Dean glanced at her in the rearview mirror, her smile was gone, and she was watching him in clear concern. “You will get it back, Michael. I know you will.”

“You’re far more certain than I am,” Dean admitted. It sort of felt like a relief for someone to be on the same wavelength as him, and someone that wasn’t one of his brothers. “It keeps coming and going, and I don’t know how the hell to make it come back and stay.” It hadn’t been from lack of trying, that was for sure. All he wanted was his Grace.

And according to Father, that was supposed to be what brought it back: what he wanted, what he needed. What could he need more than that?

A hand gently settled on his shoulder. “Many of us have waited a long time for you to return. Your disappearing…it devastated many of us. Myself for certain.” Her gaze drifted away. “You were the mentor, the one confided in, looked up to. You embodied everything we wished to be. But we knew, or at least hoped, that you were where you needed to be the most.”

She met his gaze then and smiled. “And you were. You were with Lucifer, with Sam, keeping him safe.”

“It’s my duty,” he said. “That’s what I’m called to do.” Dean, Michael, it didn’t matter. That was what he needed to do. That was where he needed to be.

“Then it’ll come back,” Hannah said confidently. “For Sam, if no one else.”

That sounded about right. “Thank you,” he said. “You’ve come a long way.” She needed a garrison of her own. Her calm, unassuming nature was just about right for helping lead a group of angels.

She smiled, a little sweet sort of smile that he remembered well. “Do you want me to help with your headache?” she asked.

Actually, his head didn’t really hurt anymore. His chest didn’t feel as tight either. She’d helped in more ways than one. “Nah,” he told her. “I’m okay now.”

He went to put the car in motion, then stopped. “Get up here,” he told her.

In the blink of an eye she was in the front, looking even more excited than before. Shaking his head with a grin, Dean slid the car into drive and moved them back to Bobby’s.

The door opened but didn’t shut. Jo paused only briefly before resuming her task of folding her clothes. The things no one talked about in the middle of the end of the world: laundry. Angels didn’t need to do laundry but humans did. She’d gotten some Leviathan goo on her pants and while Raphael had graciously removed it for her, she’d still wanted to wash her clothes. And her mom’s. She’d drawn the line at doing things for Bobby or Rufus, and they probably appreciated that.

No further sounds came from behind her. Her hands tightened in the shirt before she forcibly relaxed them. “Cat got your tongue?” she asked. Better to get it over with.

The voice, when it spoke, held a great deal of confusion in it. “I…don’t understand that reference, but it probably has nothing to do with a cat actually holding my tongue.”

It made her want to smile, but her sour mood was too much in the way. “It means why aren’t you talking.”

“Oh.” Another pause, and she could hear him moving closer. “I didn’t want to say anything before you were ready.”

Always so calm, so understanding, so everything she’d ever wished and wanted from a man. She scrunched her eyes shut and finally threw down the shirt she’d been folding. Not like she had the focus anymore.

When she spun around, there he was. Ezekiel stood, farther away than she’d figured, watching her with worry and concern. “What?” she snapped. “You came looking for me.”

“Because I’m worried about you,” he said. “I wanted to give you space, give you time, but…” He winced, as if hurt. “Your soul being in so much pain…I’d rather be stabbed. I think it would hurt less.”

She flinched at the wording, immediately catching his attention. “Jo?”

“Weren’t you nearly stabbed enough earlier?” she asked. She crossed her arms and tried to look unaffected. “Or eaten?” And she’d thought Sam and Dean got into enough trouble. They had nothing on Ezekiel these days. She’d thought he was safe.

Ezekiel just sighed. “I’ll admit, I’m usually less on the front lines than I have been recently. I typically flew with a garrison of angels. We did small missions. Not…not creatures sealed away by God himself. Not fighting against other angels. Not trying to protect humans.”

“I don’t need protecting,” she insisted hotly. She’d rather protect herself and Ezekiel protect himself and everyone stay safe. She didn’t need him dying for her.

“You all need protecting,” Ezekiel replied. “Not just you but Bobby, Rufus, even Dean. And Castiel, Anael, Gabriel and Raphael and Lucifer. My job is to protect everyone. And I know that you’ll protect me.”

She _hated_ that smooth, calm logic of his. She just wanted him to get angry with her, throw down, have a good fistfight. But Ezekiel wouldn’t do that.

She kind of loved that about him, too. The calming breeze to her furious ocean waves. He was perfect.

Ezekiel stood, watching her, not saying anything, and clearly not reading her mind. He could, she realized, but he hadn’t. It made her want to hug him, hold him tight and not let go. Her eyes burned at the memory of earlier, the Leviathan nearly tearing his neck open. He’d almost died, a small handful of feet away from her, and there hadn’t been a damn thing she could’ve done. No one could’ve done anything except Raphael, and if he hadn’t been there—

“Jo?”

She angrily wiped at her face. “Tell me how I can help,” he said quietly, almost pleading. “Your soul is beautiful but right now it just feels so lost. And I have a feeling it’s my fault.”

“You’re supposed to be safe.” She sniffled and dug her fingernails into the palms of her hands to make herself stop. “You’re supposed to be _safe_. And I keep on almost losing you.”

Ezekiel’s mouth parted in surprise. “I lost my daddy when I was little,” she confessed. “It’s just been me and my mom for a long time. Then Sam and Dean came in and we had a little more family. But I still never had someone just for me. Someone I…” _Loved_. The word stuck in her throat.

Somehow, over the past half a year, the angel in front of her had become more than a friend, more than a crush. He’d become a confidant, her best friend, the one she could always rely on. She’d started imagining a future together, the two of them side by side.

Jo cleared her throat. “And you were safe and I couldn’t lose you but now I realize that I can. And I might. And I’m not…I’m not handling that well.”

Ezekiel let out a small laugh, but it sounded desolate. “It’s funny. Because I’ve been dealing with the same thing.”

She frowned, confusion shutting out her other emotions at the moment. “I haven’t nearly died twice in the past few weeks.”

“But you will at some point,” Ezekiel said miserably. “You’re human. I’ll lose you one day.”

That wasn’t something she’d really thought about. Ezekiel was immortal, essentially, until something brought him down. Even if Jo lived to a ripe old age of a hundred and something, Ezekiel would keep going. He’d live on without her.

Yet he still kept watching her with concern and so much _something_ in his gaze, something she was afraid to give voice to, and she didn’t understand why. “Why?” she said helplessly.

“Why what?”

“Why are you with me? You know that I’ll die on you at some point—”

“Preferably far into the future.”

“—and you’re still here.”

He took a deep breath in and dared to step closer to her. This close, she could see the way his mouth curved, the way his hair shifted when he tilted his head. His eyes watched her in clear adoration. “Because I’d rather have this small amount of time with you than no time at all.”

It felt like an answer to a prayer she’d never spoken, a blessing from the universe. She closed the gap between them until they were nearly nose to nose. She glanced up at him and felt a little unsteady. She used to be good at this.

But it had never really been with someone who’d mattered so much.

“You can read my mind, right?” she asked him.

Ezekiel immediately shook his head. “I would never do that to you. Your thoughts are yours—”

“I meant, you can read my mind,” she drawled, feeling a little more confident by the minute. “Right now would be preferable.”

He frowned but didn’t say anything. She raised an eyebrow and waited.

His eyes went wide. “Oh,” he said. “ _Oh_. Yes, I can do that.”

She tugged him in for a long kiss, and let her eyes close just as the door closed and firmly locked without him having to move at all.

If she only got to have him for a little bit, then he was right: she wasn’t going to waste any time at all.

Ellen glanced up just as Dean and Hannah came in. “You get more beer?” she asked.

“Amongst other things,” Dean assured her. “Not that we’d be out of anything with Gabriel or Lucifer here, but…”

She got it. She’d gone for long drives herself when she’d needed to clear her head. Here at Bobby’s place, there was plenty to do to keep her busy that wasn’t research or hunter’s nonsense. How anyone could sit and think that books made acceptable shelves to hold lamps, she had no clue. She wasn’t the womanly sort that needed white curtains, but she had _some_ standards.

She followed them into the kitchen where Dean’s haul was happily met by Rufus, who immediately grabbed one of the bottles of whiskey and disappeared. “You’re welcome?” Ellen called after him, rolling her eyes. Turner was probably dying with this many people around. The man was a hermit, and a paranoid one at that.

Dean pulled something out of the bag and tossed it at Sam, who was sitting at the table next to Anna, Castiel, and Gabriel. Ellen found her lips going up at Sam’s surprised smile. “You’re disgusting, and I’m enabling you,” Dean told him as Sam eagerly opened the package of licorice. “I don’t understand why you like those when you could have a candy bar like normal people.”

“You don’t know what you’re missing,” Sam insisted. Dean mimed gagging.

Archangels or not, they were still very much brothers. It was reassuring, in a way, that no matter how much power they had or how much they could do, they were still going to be Dean and Sam, with Sam currently making a show out of eating his licorice and Dean looking like he’d be ill.

“Jo likes ‘em too,” Ellen told them. “Save one for her. She’s been moping and I’m sure she’d enjoy some sugar.”

“Where _is_ Jo, anyway?” Bobby asked. He moved around her and started helping Dean put away the things he’d bought. “I ain’t seen her for the last half hour or so.”

“She was doing laundry,” Castiel supplied. “I felt it prudent to leave her be.”

A sudden flash of light from the window made them all jump. “What the hell?” Bobby asked, running over to it. The light flashed again, and Ellen could see clearly now that it was coming from above them. In the direction of the second story, where Jo had been putting away laundry.

“Jo,” she began, fear climbing in her throat, but then stopped in her tracks when the angels at the table frantically called out, “ _Stop_.”

“She’s up there,” Ellen began, and to her amazement, Gabriel _giggled_.

“Oh _yes_ she is.”

Dean frowned, glancing at them. “And?”

Anna cleared her throat. “Um. Ezekiel is with her.”

Another flash of light went out. Sam snorted helplessly and covered his face. “Heavens above, Zeke, pull it together,” he muttered.

Dean seemed to have figured it out, if his wide eyes were anything to by. “Oh,” was all he said, before he started snickering.

Clearly Jo wasn’t in an immediate danger if they were all laughing about it. Still, her curiosity was burning through her. “What’s going on up there?” she demanded.

Gabriel cut off his chuckles and tried to school his face into something more serious. Before he could say anything, however, Castiel told her, “Ezekiel and Jo are going to need to do more laundry.”

Dean lost it, Sam right after him. Ellen felt her face heat and she wearily pinched the bridge of her nose to try and stave off more blushing. It wasn’t like Jo hadn’t hooked up before with a person or two, but it was clear that Ezekiel meant more to her than a quick tumble. Ellen had been surprised it hadn’t happened yet, honestly.

She just supposed she hadn’t accounted for what having sex with an angel actually entailed.

Another light flashed. “I need to teach him to mind the Grace,” Gabriel mused. “It’s not going to hurt anything except his pride at this point.”

“Worse than a virgin on prom night,” Bobby added, and Gabriel barked out a laugh.

“I always knew you were my favorite, Singer.”

Anna, who at this point had been content to sit and grin, suddenly stood up. “We should, um, probably go elsewhere for a bit,” she said quickly. “Maybe somewhere away from the windows.”

Sam and Dean just shared a grin but did as she suggested. Ellen rolled her eyes and headed to the other side of the house. She considered the basement, then decided that she wasn’t a coward.

When Rufus came into the living room about three minutes later, asking incredulously, “Who the hell set off the fireworks just now?” even Ellen couldn’t keep a straight face. The group was still laughing when Jo and Ezekiel came downstairs some time later.

The part Ellen enjoyed the most was refusing to tell an increasingly demanding Jo what they were laughing about. Or maybe it was the look on Ezekiel’s face, proving to her that yes, angels _could_ blush. Probably right down to his Grace.

She’d tell Jo eventually. Maybe.


	25. Chapter 25

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'all enjoyed the fluff, right? Right?
> 
> We now return you to your regularly scheduled angst.

“I needed that.”

Sam glanced over at his brother who handed over a beer. The grin on his face was unmistakable, and Sam felt his own lips turn up at the memory. “Does Jo know yet?”

“Not a damn clue,” Dean said gleefully. “Zeke, on the other hand…”

Oh, Ezekiel knew. “I don’t know which one’s funnier,” Sam admitted.

“Tell me about it. Didn’t know he had it in him,” and of course Dean sounded proud. “At least they’ve got things ironed out. I know she’s had her worries.”

Ezekiel did, too. Loving a human as an angel was never going to end well. Sam pushed the thought away in favor of opening the bottle and taking a swig. He could taste the individual ingredients if he tried hard enough, and it was still odd that he could do that.

_Perks of an archangel. You should try one of those decadent sundaes with everything in it. It’ll blow your mind._

Sam grinned. Leave it to Gabriel to justify why he loved sweets so much.

A moment later, Raphael and Gabriel wandered out of Bobby’s house and down to the middle of the yard to join them. Castiel followed after with Anna beside him. “Hannah and Nathaniel get back okay?” Dean asked.

Castiel nodded. “Safe and sound in Heaven, making the rounds, ensuring everyone’s all right. They’re also trying to get a head count of who’s not there. Granted, those missing may not be with Tabbris, they could still be on Earth, but knowing who’s there and who’s not will help.”

No one would suspect Hannah and Nathaniel at this point. At least, Sam hoped they wouldn’t. He rolled his shoulders back and tried to hold onto the good feeling he’d had that afternoon, the hope that Gabriel had given him earlier. Dean’s Grace was just a puzzle to solve, one step at a time. They’d figure it out. They’d get it back.

Dean didn’t seem as resigned anymore, which also helped. Hannah mentioned that she’d talked with him, and it seemed to have done some good. He stood now in the fading light, soul far more at ease. This was every inch the big brother that Sam knew and relied on, as Lucifer or as Sam. It let part of him settle, too.

“So where is it and what is it,” Gabriel said, clearly eager to move on. “C’mon, out with it.”

Anna gave Dean a look. “You didn’t tell them?”

“I don’t know where it is,” Dean said innocently. “That’s what you found out.”

That earned him an unimpressed look. “You could’ve told them what it was. I think that’s rather unfair, since you know Raphael’s and Gabriel’s.”

“Did you find your magic wand yet?” Castiel asked, and Sam coughed to hide his grin.

Gabriel scowled at him. “Not yet, no. We’ve been too busy trying to dig for Crowley’s bones. I’ve got a really good idea of where it is, though, and it’s not in the bunker. It’s not even in America. I’d have to go to Europe to get it. And most likely, I’d have to go without anyone else.”

“Not happening,” Sam said immediately, smile falling away. “Someone needs to go with you.”

“I need to go as Loki,” Gabriel said as gently as he could. “An archangel showing up could sort of ruin the whole bid. Good news is that I think I can get it back fairly quickly. Bad news is, yeah, I’d need to go alone.”

“Take Meg.”

Sam glanced at Castiel who was dead serious. “If we can’t go with you, take Meg,” he said again. “I’d trust her. And a demon wandering around with Loki is far easier to imagine than an angel.”

Gabriel seemed to be thinking it over. Sam would take that for the moment. It wasn’t a bad idea. And someone could help sound the alert if Gabriel came under attack.

“I believe we were discussing Michael’s sword,” Raphael cut in. “What is it, exactly?”

There was the look on Dean’s face that Sam had seen a hundred times before, the smug look of someone who’d been saving his aces for the final round. “Just a little thing called Excalibur, that’s all.”

Sam felt his mouth drop open. Of course it was. Of _course_. “You’re kidding me.”

Dean just grinned. “Son of a _bitch_ ,” Gabriel breathed, sounding impressed. “You crafted Arthur’s sword? Nice going.”

“So where is it?” Dean asked Anna. Anna crossed her arms.

“It’s here, in America. It’s currently sitting in the middle of a museum as a display. It’s stuck in the middle of a stone.”

“ _That_ would be where I left it,” Dean said, and it was all Michael in the sheepishness. “I didn’t want just anyone getting a hold of it, and the sword kind of made a name for itself. So I just…stabbed it in. And since it couldn’t be tugged out by anyone who wasn’t blessed by me, well.”

It was the safest way to ensure the sword was never removed or used by evil. “They moved the whole rock instead,” Raphael surmised. “You’re certain it’s Excalibur?”

“Positive,” Anna said firmly. “When I put my hand towards it, it resounded with Michael’s blessing. And that was from the doorway to the room.”

“Wait, what, you can’t get in?” Sam asked. “Too many wardings?”

“There’s Enochian wards, demonic wards, devil’s traps all in there, from what I could feel. I can’t get in.”

“I might,” Gabriel said, but he made a face. “It’d be way easier if Dean could do it, though.”

Dean just shrugged. “I don’t mind a little B&E. Consider it done.”

That meant they needed information on the museum, along with who owned it, hours of operation, security details. “We need the smaller details, then. Bobby and Rufus would be your best bets,” Sam told Anna. “Right now, they don’t have anything else to work on until something else happens, so—”

Nathaniel suddenly landed beside them, wings still flapping in agitation. “Thanks for the jinx,” Gabriel muttered at him, but he immediately moved towards Nathaniel. “What happened?”

“Leviathans,” Nathaniel gasped. “In a small town. Not far from here—”

“Dean! Sam!”

“ _Shit_ ,” Dean muttered at Bobby’s shouting, and Sam took off for the house, the others right behind him.

When they got inside, Bobby stood in front of the television, Ellen and Rufus flanking him. He gave Sam a grim look and turned up the volume.

“ _…and authorities are asking for the public’s help in these missing persons’ cases. Among the dozen people missing are two teenagers, an elderly couple, and half of a local tech company’s employees. If you know anything about the people listed on the screen, please call—”_

Bobby shut the television off. “Leviathans?” he asked.

“Leviathans,” Nathaniel echoed mournfully. “They suddenly descended on the small town, and before Hannah and I could try and gather anyone together, they’d dispersed again. They were quick. Far quicker than I would have expected.”

He turned to Dean, biting his lip. “Michael, I am so, so sorry.”

“Hey, no, it’s all right,” Dean said, even as Sam wanted to scream. Nothing about this was fine, but it sure as hell wasn’t Nathaniel’s fault. What could he have done against Leviathans except add to the death toll?

Jo was already at the computer. “It’s not a big town,” she said. “Kripke’s Hollow is in Ohio, maybe a day’s drive from here.”

Sam paused. That name. He knew that name. “Kripke’s Hollow? Isn’t that where—”

“Chuck Shurley,” Dean said, eyes widening in realization. “Jo, do you have the names of the people missing?”

She turned back to the screen, scanning it briefly before shaking her head. “There’s no Chuck or Charles there.”

“Carver Edlund,” Sam suggested. He wasn’t sure that Jo even knew about the books, but he was sort of hoping that no one beyond Bobby actually knew about the Supernatural series. From the blank look on her face, it seemed likely that she didn’t have a clue.

She looked at the list again and shook her head once more. “Nobody with those first or last names.”

“Isn’t that the prophet of the week?” Gabriel asked incredulously.

“The prophet that Father is currently wearing,” Sam muttered. Raphael’s Grace blossomed in anger once more. Sam could empathize. “Yeah, that’d be the one.”

Bobby frowned. “There’s always one, right? I hate to be all Buffy about this, but into every generation, there’s a chosen one?”

“More like every few generations,” Raphael said. “Prophets tend to last for a lifetime. Well. Unless that lifetime involves war, famine, or an apocalypse.”

“Did everyone know this Chuck guy was the prophet? Like, the angel circuit?” Rufus asked. His eyes were still on the computer screen, where there were a host of pictures depicting the missing people. “Because that seems like an awfully odd place for a lot of Leviathans to suddenly be.”

Rufus was right: they hadn’t just randomly shown up in Kripke’s Hollow. They’d been looking for Chuck. “All the angels knew,” Sam told him. “So yeah, Tabbris would’ve known. He wouldn’t have known exactly where, but he’d have had the name. It’s up to the archangels to declare the prophets to everyone.”

“Except he doesn’t know that Dad is wearing the latest model,” Gabriel retorted. His wings kept twitching, a sure sign of his frustration. “Otherwise he wouldn’t have been there, and what the hell good is a prophet to him, anyway?”

“The more we find out, the more confused we get,” Ellen said. “We have parts of it figured out and then there’s more to it. Now there’s prophets? I wasn’t aware that prophets were even a thing.”

“Welcome to my world,” Rufus said dryly.

It only drove Sam up the wall all the more because dammit, he didn’t know what Tabbris’s game was. Or really, what Metatron’s game had been. He thought he’d been getting close, but now there was this new piece and he had no idea what to make of it.

It didn’t make _sense_. And he was running out of time because Tabbris literally had an army of Leviathans at his disposal. Maybe it was his way of showing his strength to them. _I can take out whoever I want, whenever I want._ Maybe he’d been hoping to trigger Raphael’s call to rescue the prophet by bringing the Leviathans to the town, except it hadn’t worked. Or maybe he’d actually wanted Chuck.

“This is bullshit,” Dean snapped. “How the hell are we supposed to figure any of this out in time before he just decides to use the Leviathans to end humanity?”

“The only one who knew what’s about to possibly unfold was Metatron,” Gabriel said angrily. “Without that asshole, we’ve got no chance of getting somewhere in time because we don’t know what his end-game was.”

Bobby looked even more pissed off now, which was far better than him being scared. A scared Bobby Singer was more than Sam could’ve dealt with at that point. “We need Tabbris on ice, then,” he said. “And fast. If he’s the one pullin’ the strings, he needs to get benched. We stop him, we got a better chance of stoppin’ whatever it was Metatron had up his sleeve.”

“Can’t we track Tabbris?” Castiel said, almost desperately. “I can find him, I know I can—”

“Who’s to say that Tabbris will be the one who flips the switch?” Dean said. “There are others. And they could split off to the ends of the Earth where you’ll never find them.”

“And you’d never get to him,” Anna told him. “He would trust any other angel besides you at this point.”

Sam felt like he was spinning, head going around faster and faster until he’d vomit. “Raph—”

“There is…one thing we could do,” Raphael said, hesitantly, and Sam frowned. “We could call all the angels back to Heaven.”

“The only way that works is if you—” Sam began, then stopped. His stomach sank somewhere towards his shoes and his entire Grace shuddered. No. _No_.

Gabriel’s jaw dropped open. “You can’t be serious. That’s a last-ditch effort.”

“We might’ve hit that point,” Dean said, quiet and sure as Michael could be, but there wasn’t a hint of Grace anywhere on him. He also wouldn’t meet Sam’s gaze.

Anna looked bewildered. “I don’t understand.”

“We close the doors of Heaven,” Raphael said. “Lock all the angels inside. That would ensure Earth’s safety as well as the livelihood of humanity.”

Castiel went pale. Sam was seriously going to be sick because that meant leaving behind the family he’d made, the family he called his own. Bobby and Ellen and Jo and—

—And Dean. Because Dean was human, which meant they were going to be separated.

Dean glanced up at him at last and he couldn’t even smile. “No,” Sam said, and he shook his head. “ _No_.”

“We might not have a choice, Sam,” Dean said, almost gently, and this felt like the one-year deal all over again: Dean being stoic and calm and Sam—

Sam losing his mind. Because Dean wasn’t going to fight it. Not if it meant keeping Sam safe.

It was Lucifer who rounded on Raphael. “You swore that it would be a last resort.”

“Lucifer, I don’t want to do this,” Raphael said, frustration evident. “You think I _want_ to separate us from Earth? You think I want to, to divide us from the humans whom we love? But I would rather they be safe than be subjected to whatever Metatron had planned!”

“ ** _I will not leave him_ ,” **Lucifer thundered, feeling every inch of his Grace as furious and helpless as he felt. The bookshelves shook and the glass in the lamps rattled. Nathaniel and Anna both took a step back, startled.

A hand caught his arm, and there was his big brother, always there. “Easy, Sammy,” he said soothingly. “ _Easy_ , all right?”

The Grace faded, unable to be quelled or calmed, and Sam fled into the sanctuary of his best friend. “Dean,” he choked out.

Dean held on firmly, just as he had any other time that Sam had been hurt or frightened, and it suddenly hit hard that Dean wouldn’t be coming with him. He was going to be separated from Sam _forever_. If they locked down Heaven, then he would live and die as a human, and when he reached Heaven, he’d be down with the souls where the angels weren’t supposed to go.

They’d be divided. Forever.

Dean pulled back to rest a hand on Sam’s face, cradling it. “We’ll do what we can,” he said. “And then we’ll do what we have to do. But for now, we need to prepare for the possibility.”

“No one wants it,” Raphael said firmly. “And I mean no one. God’s idea is the _last_ thing I want to do.”

“No shit, Sherlock,” Gabriel snapped.

Raphael said nothing but he did extend his wing around Gabriel. Gabriel shut his eyes but didn’t shove him off. Castiel stood, looking very small, until Gabriel grabbed him and yanked him into a side hug.

He’d get to keep them, at least. Even if he’d have to let go of the one person he loved more than anyone else, the person who had raised him, been there for him, always kept him upright.

Bobby swallowed hard. “That doesn’t stop the Leviathans either,” he said, looking as ill as Sam felt. “We’ve gotta tamp them down.”

“Locking down Heaven would most likely bring God back,” Raphael said softly. “And he _does_ have the power to do just that.”

Bobby cursed and tossed his hat off to the side. Sam couldn’t seem to let go of Dean. Ellen was glancing around at the group of them, as if suddenly realizing that they could be divided so easily. Nathaniel and Anna wouldn’t meet anyone’s eyes and looked as if they’d be ill. Ezekiel had a death grip on Jo’s shoulders, and Jo’s hand was clenching his so hard her knuckles had gone white. Neither said a word. They didn’t have to.

“Too bad Metatron didn’t keep a damn diary,” Gabriel muttered, and Sam felt his very being freeze as the idea flooded through his mind. He pulled on his Grace to shut it down, carefully keeping it from being seen or picked up on, because they wouldn’t understand. All of them, ready to do the worst thing imaginable, just to keep the world safe.

And Lucifer, ready to give everything, just to keep the ones he loved together.

He cleared his throat and backed away. “You okay?” Dean asked, frowning, and of course the idiot would see through him, even without his Grace. Lunch made a reappearance and he managed to swallow it back.

“Yeah, I just, I need…”

Dean relented. Always looking out for him, always loving him no matter what. “Go on, go fly it out, go wander through some libraries or something. Just keep in touch with us, all right?”

Always there to protect him.

“I promise,” Sam swore, and he took off, wings sending him into the air as fast as they could.

_You’ve always been there to protect me. This time, it’s my turn._

Raphael watched Lucifer fly off, more than a little disoriented at how quiet he’d made his Grace. He understood why, to some extent: Lucifer had been watching him and Gabriel before his thoughts had quickly gotten tucked away. He’d been trying to spare them, in his own way. It made Raphael’s heart ache all the more for his little brother.

He just wished that Lucifer understood that he didn’t have to tamper his own grief to spare Raphael. He was Raphael’s little brother: he could, and would, take his pain.

For now, Lucifer seemed to be flying towards the western coast. _Washington,_ Gabriel gently told him. _I’ve urged him towards California, towards the apartment I’ve got set up. I’ve got it warded pretty heavily. It should be safe._

That helped a lot. Still, it didn’t end the somber scene before him.

Anna cleared her throat. “Before we seal up Heaven, we have other things we can do.”

“Michael’s sword,” Raphael said, and she nodded. “Then let’s go get it.”

Another weapon couldn’t hurt. And if they could protect humanity with it, then maybe, just maybe, they wouldn’t have to put God’s plan to use.

Raphael squeezed his eyes shut. It was the last thing he wanted to do. Not just because it had been God’s plan, but because…

Because

Nathaniel suddenly went pale, Grace shaking. “I left Hannah alone up there,” he said, eyes wide. “I need to go back—”

“I’m going with you,” Raphael said immediately. “Gabriel?”

“I’m staying with Dean and Anna,” he said. “We’ll figure out who’s doing what.”

“I need to make up more Borax solutions,” Bobby said. “And I think I might have a ward that would keep even a Leviathan out.”

That held merit. “I might have something to help you with that,” Raphael told him. “I’ll get it, once I know that Hannah’s all right.”

Ellen came over and settled a hand on his shoulder. “Go check on her,” she said. “We’ll be here. And we’ll be all right.” She jutted her jaw forward, as if trying to stave off emotions. “Whatever happens, we’ll be all right.”

Her soul shone, bright and beautiful, despite the overwhelming feeling of loss that had suddenly tightened around it. Strong and determined, even if she were about to lose the small family she’d knitted together on her own.

He smiled at her, sorrow in his gaze. “You’ll be all right,” he agreed. “But I don’t know that we will be.”

He took off for Heaven, trailing right behind Nathaniel, before she could respond. Hannah greeted them along with several others from Castiel’s garrison, all of them concerned about what needed to happen next.

_Nathaniel, do not tell them,_ Raphael prayed. Nathaniel swallowed hard but nodded. Good. There was no sense sending the angels into a panic unless it was necessary.

And as they gathered together to consider where the Leviathans might strike next, and Raphael went for his rare ingredients, he finally prayed the prayer he’d been avoiding for a very long time.

_Father…we need you._


	26. Chapter 26

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PLEASE READ.
> 
> This is the chapter where the tags, "suicide-like attempt" and "temporary major character death" begin. This and the next few chapters will reflect on this. It is not graphic, nor will you read it/see it. But you will read the before and, of course, the fall-out when it's discovered.
> 
> If it ain't happy, it's not the end. Have faith in me.

The museum, unfortunately, was open on Tuesdays, which it so happened to be. Dean would have preferred if it’d been closed but that happened on Mondays and Sundays. It was only him and Anna, with Castiel being so sensitive to the wards that he’d had to stay outside. Bobby was back at his place, working the phones and mobilizing hunters for a “get ready” sort of situation, while Rufus had taken off driving with Ellen, Jo, and Ezekiel for Ohio. Computers and news reports were one thing: seeing the place and talking with witnesses themselves was another. They were also heading to check out the residence of one Chuck Shurley. Better to know what the stupid Leviathans had been after than be left in the dark. Again.

Hannah was on standby, waiting with some of Castiel’s garrison to swoop in when needed. Otherwise, she was staying in Heaven with Raphael, who was quickly trying to find out if he could, indeed, find a sigil to banish the Leviathans. Or get the information that Bobby needed to get the job done. Anael was with him, working her healing knowledge in a new, different way by doing something with Borax that Dean was pretty sure _might_ work.

And none of them were Lucifer, who’d taken off the night before and still hadn’t come back.

Dean gritted his teeth and pretend to be interested in the museum room around him, like the other dozen or so patrons were. A few other swords were scattered throughout various glass cases, but none of them were the one he needed.

He resisted the urge to check his phone again. He was fine. Sam was _fine_. Sam kept texting every now and then and Castiel kept checking in on Sam. According to Castiel, Gabriel was also keeping a close eye on him, even from Europe. He’d agreed to let Meg accompany him, but only because Dean and Raphael had been so concerned. “Don’t expect me to like it,” Gabriel had grumbled. In an instant he’d changed his appearance just so, his mannerisms far more like the trickster they’d met so many years ago, and when he’d snapped his fingers, he’d disappeared. Loki had reappeared, for a short time.

If it kept Gabriel safe, Dean wouldn’t have cared if they’d all had to wear tutus and saunter across a stage. He just needed his little brothers safe.

Why was it that he accepted Gabriel and Raphael going off to do their own thing far more readily than he did Sam? Sam was a capable hunter; Lucifer a capable archangel. There was no reason to think that he’d meet with some horrific end just because he wasn’t there.

Except Sam _had_ died and been tortured after they’d been separated before. Every time they split, bad things happened to his little brother. History had yet to fail him. Hell, when they’d been separated by the Cage, Lucifer had been ready to roll over and die. Anything to escape his prison. It was almost more than Dean could stand to think about.

The Cage was gone. Sam was fine. This time, their being separated for a little bit wasn’t going to end badly.

He shoved down the little niggling thought that persisted, _If you don’t get your Grace back, you might be separated forever._ The more he fought to not think about it, the more it bore down on him.

Something slid into his hand, startling him, and discovered it was a red plastic egg. Frowning, he opened it and found it was full of silly putty. He glanced at Anna who just shrugged. “Gabriel’s orders,” she said.

He shook his head but grinned. Leave it to Gabriel to keep track of him, even while his brother was thousands of miles away. He got the message loud and clear: the material that stuck together the best. _Thanks, Gabriel,_ he prayed. _Be careful._

He slid the toy inside his pocket—he was pretty sure putty was the worst thing he could bring in to a museum besides chewing gum—and brushed against his phone. Dean paused, fingers wrapping around it. He hadn’t gotten a text from Sam in a while.

Worrying without merit. That’s all he was doing.

…okay, not completely without merit. Trouble magnet: that was Sam to a t.

Anna paused, then frowned. “Castiel says he prefers trouble lure…?”

“Tell him to quit reading my mind, then,” Dean told her, but it gave him the confidence he needed to pull out his phone. Screw it. He wasn’t going to stop worrying about Sam until he actually talked with the kid.

Before he could make the call, however, his phone lit up in his hand. _One new message_ was a text message from Sam. All there was to see was a picture: the top of what appeared to be a building, looking down over a small town. And in the bottom of the picture were two feet in very familiar boots.

Safe, sound, and able to send pictures under the premise of sharing a moment, not settling his brother’s nerves. Dean’s fingers tightened around the phone. What the hell would he do without his little brother?

If they had to close Heaven, what would he do without Sam?

Someone bumped into him, forcing his attention back. Anna glared at the person hard enough to probably smite them on the spot. “Where’s the sword?” he asked. The sooner they got this done, the better it’d be for everyone.

She nodded to a doorway off to the right of the room. “Through there. There’s not a lot else in there from what I could see: two holy relics that are almost devoid of blessed energy, some old weapons that look ready to fall apart, a couple of letters that still hold a resonance of the souls that wrote them…and the sword, still stuck in the stone.”

“Right: let’s see what we’ve got,” he said, and he headed into the room, Anna right behind him.

She stopped at the door, pretending to look at the paintings in the main room, while Dean slipped inside. His eyes went straight to the sword in the middle of the room. Still lodged right where he’d left it: that was Arthur’s sword, all right. There was no way he was getting it out of the stone. That task was going to have to go to Anna.

Now to just get Anna inside.

He pretended to wander around the outer rim of the room, eyes searching for the wards. There were etchings in the wooden baseboards and the trim that looked like they could’ve been Enochian, but nothing that he could point to and say was definitively the problem. The ceiling was clear, and the carpet could’ve hidden anything. If Anna could feel the wards and see them, then they were probably beyond human sight. Which meant he wasn’t going to be able to dismantle them.

Well, shit. This wasn’t going to be easy to get them in.

He made note of the random little security details, the cameras in two corners, the security guard watching everyone, then caught hold of Anna’s elbow. She followed with him back through the museum to where Castiel was waiting outside, enjoying the breeze. When he saw them, he stood and made his way over. “You didn’t find the wards, did you,” he said. It wasn’t a question.

Dean shook his head. “They’re buried pretty good. My bet is that they’ve been here for longer than the museum.” The only thing worse than wards were wards with age and strength behind them.

Anna made a frustrated sound. “Then how am I supposed to get in there?”

“We need an archangel,” Dean said. “One strong enough to get in despite the wards and blow them to kingdom come.”

“They’ll still keep an archangel out,” Castiel began, but Dean just smirked.

“Not one who’s also a trickster demi-god. It might be just enough to get him in.” _Gabriel, call me when you’re free. We’re going to need your help liberating the sword._

He didn’t have to wait long. Castiel just rolled his eyes but dutifully communicated, “He said he’s nearly done. Sit tight, get something to eat, and, um, ‘If my oldest brother knows how, relax.’”

Fine. He could do that. He could relax before a night-time burglary. “Then let’s go find some food, check in with Bobby and the others.” And Sam probably half a dozen more times. Because he could.

He set off down the street towards the Impala, Anna and Castiel right beside him.

He had everything else that he needed, he thought. Now the last piece had to be here, in this place, where no one would’ve thought to look for it.

The bookshelves stood before him, random books that they’d left behind, rare documents from over the years. Not a single one what he wanted.

He put his hand to the bookshelf and closed his eyes. _The Empty_ , he thought to himself. A fluttering sound met his ears and he instantly turned. The bookshelf was now completely empty.

“Oh come _on_ ,” Lucifer snapped. There were things on the Empty, he knew it. So why weren’t they popping?

Gabriel. Gabriel had control of the bookshelves. Lucifer closed his eyes. _Gabriel, I need something from the bookshelves here in California._

The reply was instantaneous. _I thought you were in some little town?! Luce—_

_Just open up the bookshelf for anything in Heaven. I need information._

There was a pause. _You should have everything from Heaven,_ and wow was Gabriel a shit liar. Honestly, he thought he’d taught him better than that.

_You know there isn’t. You haven’t included everything from the archangel libraries._

The documents and scrolls for the archangels had been written for their eyes only. And there were several texts in there about the Empty. One of them had to have the information he needed.

If he’d thought it was remotely safe enough for him to go to Heaven, he would’ve, but compromising Raphael and the others wasn’t going to happen.

_You didn’t need those!_ Gabriel protested. _You didn’t have your Grace, and I didn’t want to make you feel bad if you stumbled across one of them!_

That was fair. _Well I need them now._

_What are you even looking for?_

Lucifer pursed his lips. Screw it. _I need information about the history of the realms. I know there’s a scroll with the information that Michael and Raphael compiled, at the least. There were probably others._

That wasn’t really a lie. Not really.

_You think there’s something about Purgatory? You think you can find something to deal with the Leviathans?_

_Maybe. Gabriel, please._

It felt as if he were running out time, which was stupid, they weren’t. But he couldn’t shake the feeling that if they didn’t get the answer to the larger plan, then he was going to lose the brothers he’d fought so hard to get back. He wasn’t going to lose them. He _would_ get the answer from the source.

The bookshelves felt warmer against his hand. _Tell me if you find anything._

Lucifer smiled. _Thanks, Gabe. Keep Dean safe. And you too._

_Michael’s sword is being broken out as we speak: I love a good ward breaking in the midnight hours._ The obvious grin in his tone turned a bit hesitant. _But it’s not just us who needs to stay safe. You’ll come back when you’ve got something?_

He would. He was determined that he’d come back. _I promise._

Then Lucifer shut his eyes and focused. _The Empty._

This time, there was a different sound, a shuffling, and when Lucifer looked at the shelves again, there was a thick, aged scroll there. He caught hold of it and unfurled it to read the top. _A History of the Realms of God the Father._ Michael’s handwriting, neat as per usual.

And there, mixed in the middle, was the Empty.

He scanned it quickly, Sam’s eyes making fast work of it. A nearby highlighter confirmed what he’d already suspected, that it was everything he’d need. Coupled with the spell he’d found, he could make this work.

He rolled it back up and took flight for Bobby’s. After checking in with the man and confirming that the others were safely on their way back from Ohio, he headed down to the basement. As much as he hated the room, the former panic room was going to be the safest place to do this.

And he _would_ come back.

The room was still sparking a little when the others dared to poke their heads in. Gabriel turned to them and just grinned. “Wards are gone,” he said cheerfully. The itch on his skin was a little bit annoying but he shrugged it off. The wards had blown like an old fuse the instant he walked in and flexed his power. They hadn’t exactly been made for an archangel.

Another prayer came through to him, catching his attention, but it wasn’t Lucifer this time. No, it was Ezekiel, who informed him that they were safely back at Singer’s. “Well, that was fast,” he commented.

“What was?” Dean asked, still warily eyeing the room.

“Zeke. He said they’re all back from Ohio.” Oh. That would explain why. Gabriel’s lips turned up.

“Leviathans?” Castiel asked, frowning in worry, but Gabriel waved him off.

“More like local police suddenly finding their fake FBI badges worthy of closer inspection.”

Dean snickered. “Yeah, that’s enough reason to take the angel express all the way back to South Dakota. Did they get anything?”

“He said they’d update us when we got back, but it didn’t sound earth-shattering. And we can get to that update lot faster if we got a certain sword freed.”

“And you’ve got your magic wand?” Anna said, looking very, _very_ innocent, and Gabriel just scowled at her. Dean smirked but thankfully didn’t say anything. He was distinctly regretting the years he’d spent teaching Anna that particular trick.

With a sigh Gabriel pulled out the wand. It was more than a twig—thank you very much, Samshine—and more like a short staff. One end curled around a blackened piece of wood that, upon closer inspection, glittered like starlight. It still felt strong with his Grace, and it felt right in his hands.

“It’s beautiful,” Anna told him, genuine awe in her voice. Castiel looked equally impressed, and Dean actually looked proud. “It’s a work of art, Gabriel.”

“I spent time on it,” he admitted. “I hadn’t realized how much I missed it until I had it back in my hands.” Sinmoera had been willing to part with it because it’d been him asking, but also because she’d urged him to leave her and the others out of “the multi-realm war.” Then she’d told him to “fly home.”

He wondered now if others had known who he really was. The jötunn had always been unbearably perceptive.

Meg had left him to inform Crowley that they had at least two weapons now capable of inflicting damage to the Leviathans, with a third on the way. She’d promised that if he had an inventory of what had been taken, she’d relay the information. He’d appreciated the backup, and he’d told her as much, but she’d just shrugged. “It’s been a while since I got to dip my fingers into Olde World business,” she’d said. “I forgot how nice it was when magic was just a way of life and any being of power was respected.” Then she’d left, but it had made Gabriel wonder. From Shemyaza’s point of view, it was clear that Meg had never been next in line after Azazel. If she’d spent the majority of her existence fighting for approval that had never come, well. It was even clearer to Gabriel why she’d bonded with Sam. And why she was willing to throw her hat in with the angels who gave her a moderate amount of respect.

He cleared his throat and tucked the weapon back into the folds of one of his wings, ready when he needed it. “We ready to get this done?”

Dean nodded to Anna, and she slowly made her way over to the stone. Pausing for a moment, as if trying to figure out where she needed to be, she finally walked straight up to the stone and grabbed hold of the blade handle. For a long moment, nothing happened.

Her eyes flared with Grace and Gabriel could see her wings flapping to give herself more momentum. An instant later, the sword came free. It was solid and still shone in the light, despite spending hundreds of years encased in stone. The tip was sharp but the blade was otherwise plain, save for the small groove cut down the middle. That was Michael’s, all right.

She brought it over and handed it to Dean, who took it with far less effort than any normal human should have. For a moment, Gabriel felt a tendril of hope that being reconnected with his sword would bring his Grace out. He watched, breath held.

Nothing happened. Gabriel forced his disappointment down.

Dean swung the blade around. “Thanks, Anna. That’s three weapons. I think we can start doing some Leviathan damage now.” He made a face. “Provided we can find them before they do more damage.”

“Well, we’ve got multiple people working on it: Hannah’s got a garrison flying globally at this point while Nathaniel’s helping Raphael and Anael with something that’ll pack a little bit more of a punch than Borax. No clue what Singer’s got, but he’s working on getting other hunters prepared.” And if they were prepared, that would at least give them a head’s up as to what was going on. Gabriel was _very_ interested in what Zeke and the others had found in Kripke’s Hollow.

“Where’s Lucifer?” Castiel asked, frowning.

“All over the place,” Gabriel said. Dean began to frown as well, but Gabriel waved him off. “He was in Cali at the magic bookshelves, looking for information on Purgatory. He remembered what I didn’t: the archangel library. There was advanced history there that didn’t get passed down beyond the archangels.” Gabriel reached out briefly and found Lucifer’s Grace in a familiar place. “Now he’s back at Bobby’s place.”

“Nerd,” Dean said with a fond grin. “I can’t blame him, though. He’s not a fond fan of sitting back.”

Neither was Dean, but Gabriel got it. There was only so much he could do without his Grace in this regard. “Look, we got the sword,” Gabriel said. “I think that’s anything but sitting back.”

“It’s not particularly impressive,” Castiel said, making a face. “I suppose I had anticipated something…”

“What, more thou and thee?” Dean asked. He swung it around and looked fairly impressed. “If you loaded it up with jewels, someone would steal it. It’s still got nice heft.” He swung the sword again in what Gabriel now recognized as the technique that Michael had taught Gabriel.

Anna just shook her head. “You’re lucky that Arthur didn’t actually send it to the bottom of a pond. Fighting with a water spirit wasn’t on my list of things to do today.”

“First Arthur didn’t plunge it into the stone, you did. Now you’re telling me the Lady of the Lake’s not real either?” Gabriel said, scowling. “C’mon, all of those rumors—”

And then he stopped. Because he knew exactly who had perpetuated those rumors: the guy who was even now grinning at him unrepentantly, sword still hoisted on his shoulder. “Asshole,” Gabriel said, almost proudly. “There are about a hundred historians who’d love to talk to you and simultaneously wring your neck.”

“So, nothing new there,” Dean said.

Honestly, what left Gabriel the most irritated was that Michael had never told him any of this. How could his big brother not tell him? “That’s the sort of information you could share,” Gabriel noted.

Dean’s grin only broadened. Castiel shook his head but his lips were turning up, too, and seriously, when the hell had Gabriel become the most responsible of the group? Even Anna was smiling. “You all suck,” Gabriel muttered.

_Nothing._

Gabriel stopped. The sudden loss of something that was integral to his being wasn’t even fathomable for a moment, it was so quick. When he realized what it was, he choked on his next breath. Agony flared through him and his next breath came out in a sob.

“Gabe?” Dean asked immediately, worried eyes watching him. “Gabe, what happened?”

Castiel went pale and Anna stumbled backwards, and Gabriel realized it was going to fly through the Host, starting from the top and tumbling downward. _Gabriel tell me it’s not what I think it is,_ Raphael prayed suddenly and fiercely. _Gabriel tell me it’s not tell me tell me tell me_

“ _What_?” Dean exclaimed, and he didn’t know. _He didn’t know._ He didn’t have his Grace, so he couldn’t feel it. Gabriel was going to have to tell him.

Fortunately, or unfortunately, he was spared that horrendous fate when Anael suddenly flew in, eyes wild, grief twisting her face. “Lucifer’s…dead?” she whispered. “I felt it all the way in Heaven, but, but he can’t be—”

Dean was suddenly in his face, catching hold of his shoulders. “Get me to Bobby’s now, Gabriel, _now_ ,” and Gabriel took off in a flash.

If Dean stumbled when they landed gracelessly (ha, gracelessly, it was so funny Gabriel thought he’d puke) he made no mention, just took off running into the house. Bobby sat inside with Rufus and Ellen, and all of them startled badly when Dean tore inside. “The hell happened?” Bobby asked, bewildered. “Dean? Gabriel?”

“ _Sam_!” Dean screamed, and Bobby didn’t question, just raced for the stairs. Of course the idiot had gone down to the remnants of the panic room, of course that’s where he’d wound up dying, and Gabriel flew ahead.

The room felt cool and, until he’d barged in, it’d been silent too. As soon as his eyes caught hold of the body on the cot he fell to the ground, knees cracking on the floor, wings numb. There was no Grace.

Lucifer was dead.

Noise from the door briefly caught his attention but Gabriel ignored it. He watched Dean in a dispassionate sort of way, the way Dean raced around him, the way Dean seemed to be shaking the body and shouting. Fingers racing to the neck, then to the wrist. An ear to the chest.

“ _Gabriel._ ”

Slowly his eyes went up to where Bobby was crouched in front of him, shaking him gently. When had he gotten there? “You need to get up,” Bobby said, voice law but almost calm. Cool in a crisis, the dependable sort. That was usually Sam’s job but Sam couldn’t do it now. “Need you off the floor. I need that brain of yours and I need it now.”

Brain? He wasn’t the brains of the operation, that was Lucifer. Had been Lucifer.

What had happened? He’d been _fine_.

Fingers caught hold of him and dragged him upright to Dean’s furious, helpless face that was full of tears. “Gabriel, I fucking _need you_ ,” he hissed. “I can’t read the scroll, not the right way without any Grace, and it’s responsible for whatever the hell Sam’s done. I can’t help him if I can’t read the scroll.”

Scroll?

Gabriel blinked and blinked again. Beyond the numbness was pain and grief, just lurking, but Dean was wrecked and begging him for help. He couldn’t ignore him. He wrenched himself up and found his legs, then grabbed the scroll that Bobby handed him.

Then his eyes cast over the language and he froze. No. _No_.

“Talk to me,” Ellen’s voice said from the doorway, voice wrecked. “Is he really—”

“Barely breathing,” Bobby said tersely. “From what Cas says, there’s no Grace left. Not much of a soul, either, just enough to keep a body almost alive.”

Cassie was there? He glanced to the side, horror in his gaze, and found Castiel leaning against the wall, Anael next to him. Ellen, Rufus, and Anna stood in the doorway together. “I couldn’t read it,” Castiel confessed, voice rough. “It’s not meant for the eyes of a Seraph. Only archangels.”

How long had Gabriel been out of it? For everyone to show up and him still completely lose track of time? How long had it taken Lucifer to think that this was the best plan?

“Gabriel, _talk to me,_ ” Dean begged. “Tell me I can undo this.”

Gabriel swallowed hard. “What’s the scroll say?” Bobby asked.

“It’s…it’s a history,” Gabriel said. His voice sounded wrong, not his own. He glanced down at the section that Lucifer had noted and felt fresh tears fill his eyes. Hadn’t he fought so hard to keep his brother out of a place he couldn’t be rescued from? And then he went and did this?

“A history?” Ellen asked, prompting him further.

Gabriel shut his eyes. “A history of the various realms that Dad made. The section he’s got highlighted…it’s about the Empty.”

He didn’t have to open his eyes to feel Dean’s soul go dim in shock and grief. Gabriel felt his own Grace flinch back in response.

“What in the hell is the Empty?” Rufus cut in. “Like Hell?”

“It’s, it’s where demons and angels go, when their energy has been cut off,” Anna said. She cleared her throat and tried again. “When they die.”

He did finally force himself to meet Dean’s wide gaze and dropped jaw. He owed Dean that much. “Combine this with any out of body/wandering spirit spell and it’d be what he needed to get in. No regular angel could do this but an archangel, we’d have a chance. He, he asked me for the scroll and I didn’t think anything of it, Dean, Michael, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry—”

Arms hauled him in and held on tight, Dean shushing him, and Gabriel realized he was sobbing, clinging to his brother. Lucifer had asked him for a rope and Gabriel had given it, never knowing he’d want it for a noose and not a tether.

Tether. _Tether_.

He flung himself away from Dean, startling everyone. “He’s, he’s not completely dead. He’s got to have a tether to keep him here so he can come back,” Gabriel said, wiping his face. “We need to find it so we can yank him back.”

“Anael, get Raphael, now,” Castiel demanded. “I know he was busy dealing with frightened angels above but if anyone can help us figure out what spell he used, it’s him.” Anael took off in a gust of wind, and Castiel turned to Dean. “We’ll figure it out. We’ll get him back.”

“He went to the _Empty_ , Cas,” Dean whispered, and Gabriel shut his eyes again. “He, he basically killed himself and for what? What the hell can he get out of the Empty?”

“Balls.”

Slowly Gabriel dared to glanced at Bobby. The man had his hat in his hand and was scrubbing his other hand over his face. His soul, too, had dimmed. “Bobby?” Dean asked, almost sounding betrayed. “What…?”

“When you…when you said the only one who’d know would be Metatron,” Bobby said, quietly, like he didn’t even want to give it words, “he might’ve…taken that literally.”

Silence descended again. There was a buzzing in Gabriel’s ears and he didn’t like it. He liked the stunned, pale look on Dean’s face even less. It made no sense, but it made all the sense in the world.

They’d needed answers. To save the world, Lucifer had possibly sacrificed himself. Well, to be completely honest, Lucifer didn’t care about the world as much as he did care about his brothers. Specifically one brother who was down a set of wings and couldn’t leave the world. Lucifer would do anything to protect Michael, Gabriel, Raphael.

Sam would do anything to protect Dean.

“Start looking.”

Dean’s voice sounded like gravel, but his red eyes were determined. Another tear fell, like it couldn’t be helped, and Gabriel watched as he wiped it away. “The tether. We need to find it. Now.”


	27. Chapter 27

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to the Empty.

It only occurred to Lucifer that he may have gone a bit too far this time only when he opened his eyes and found himself in the Empty.

There was no sound. There was no light, but he could see himself easily enough. It was black and endless and too small all at once. It reminded him too much of the Cage and a shudder ran through his entire being.

He could do this, though. He had to. Dean had gone to Hell for him; Michael had fallen for him. Gabriel had quelled his spirit to keep Lucifer from being tortured, and Raphael kept risking himself to get what they needed out of Heaven. His brothers kept giving every inch of themselves for him.

He’d be a poor brother if he wasn’t willing to do the same for them.

Still, wandering around the Empty, looking for Metatron, was a sight bit different in theory than in practice. Particularly because, well. How the hell was he supposed to get anywhere when it was nothing but emptiness?

He took a tentative step forward, then another when nothing happened. When nothing still happened, he began to walk as confidently as he could in a single direction. The darkness didn’t change: just emptiness around him. He didn’t feel sleepy, at least, but he hadn’t exactly come in through the front doors.

When he realized that he’d been walking for a while and still couldn’t see anything, Lucifer finally pursed his lips. Fine: he’d just get it over with. “Metatron?” he called.

Nothing. “Metatron?” he called a little bit louder.

Still nothing. The empty darkness around him were starting to make him feel weighed down, trapped at the bottom of the Cage. Wings too heavy to move, the world closing in on him—

With a snarl he flung his wings out. The emptiness crackled, the first real sound he’d heard, and it shot down through the oblivion. Well, at least he had a path.

He didn’t have this time to waste. If he was going to risk his life being here then he might as well get what he wanted out of it. He needed to get home before anyone noticed he was actually missing. No one was bound to come looking for him in the panic room. Gabriel and Raphael would see him at Bobby’s and leave him be.

For a little while. Dean would insist on bursting in before too long and that was _not_ something he wanted to happen.

But he needed answers. Because if Metatron’s plans actually came to fruition, and they didn’t know about them? He was going to lose his family.

He was going to lose Dean. And that wasn’t happening.

Jaw set, Lucifer moved down the path after the crackling.

Dean stumbled out of the junkyard and straight into the rocks. This was his safe zone, the safe place to be when he needed to throw stones at something just to make them break. He’d thought about the garage but there were too many people who went to the garage for real purposes, like needing to work on something. No, he’d wanted to be alone.

The last time he’d come here, it’d been with Sam.

His eyes burned and he wished he’d taken the bottle of whiskey with him. The others were working on things, trying to figure out just what the hell Sam had done. And it made him want to scream because he couldn’t help. Not without Grace. He’d been gently shoved off to the side with the other humans. Useless.

While Sam lay, all but dead, in the panic room. Dead by his own hand, and Dean couldn’t take it anymore. He should’ve asked Raphael or Gabriel to put him out, but Gabriel had sort of stopped talking. Again.

Something rolled down his face, and then he couldn’t stop it. He’d cried for Dad. Hidden away from Sam and Bobby, he’d locked himself in the garage and cried until his eyes hurt. He’d cried for what John had told him as much as the fact that he’d lost his dad. It had hurt and burned through him until it had left behind anger that was easier than grief.

This…this was different.

There was no anger. There was just loss. An emptiness that he shouldn’t have been able to feel without his Grace but it was there all the same. Sam’s soul, gone. Lucifer’s Grace, never to return.

Dean stumbled to his knees and barely felt the cold ground. His hands hit harder, fingernails digging into the dirt, rocks tearing at his skin. His chest shuddered, aching, burning with each breath and every single inhale felt like betrayal. He was still breathing and Sam wasn’t. Lucifer wasn’t.

The first sob broke out of him without his permission. After that, the dam burst, and the second sob made him curl into himself. It didn’t take away the emptiness, the loss, the _grief_ that barreled through him like a firestorm.

His next sob was more like a wail, loud and ugly, and the next made every part of him hurt. _Please, Lucifer, Sammy, please_ , he begged inwardly, and he didn’t even know what he was asking anymore. For him to not be dead, for him to come back, for him to not have done this in the first place. Tears streamed down and he buried his face in his fists.

Even when Sam had been stabbed, even when he’d seen Lucifer in the Cage, even when Lucifer had disappeared under the blackness of the reeducation, he’d never felt so hopeless. So lost. His little brother was gone, to the worst place that he could think of, and all he could think of was Father’s words. _Once you go to the Empty, you do not come back._

It was, perhaps, finally a place Lucifer had gone where he couldn’t follow.

New tears fell and he choked on the next sob. “Sammy,” he whispered. “ _Luce._ ”

There was no answer. And he lost himself to grief again.

There was no answer, but there was certainly a response. His grief rocked through the Host, startling them with its intensity, leading to a sudden halt in the song of loss. Everyone felt the pain that reverberated, the hurt and loss, through their very Graces.

On Earth, it cut through the angels who stumbled in their tasks. Ezekiel froze beside Jo and could only shake his head when she asked him what was wrong. Anael shut her eyes and bowed her head where she stood in the living room. Castiel buried his face in his hands and shook, even while Ellen tried to comfort him. Anna didn’t say anything, just stared out the window at nothing.

Gabriel immediately turned and fled to the kitchen, the mourning from his big brother too much to take. Bobby immediately took off after him and caught him hard around the shoulders, giving him a place to weather the storm.

Raphael, too, retreated, steering clear of anyone and going outside. The Host reverberated through his being, shaken by their own grief and the grief they could still feel pouring out through Dean’s prayers. He hung his head and forced his own tears down.

Then paused. Not prayers. This was grief being felt in the most tangible of ways, echoing through Raphael’s Grace.

And the only thing that could do that was someone else’s Grace.

He froze and reached out. Grace from off beyond the yard, somewhere near a quarry of stone, echoed slightly back at him. Weak, in pain, but there.

He swallowed past his own grief and stumbled back inside. There was only one being who could possibly have any chance of finding Lucifer, and it was the big brother whose Grace might have returned just in time.

_Please let this work,_ he prayed to no one in particular. _Please_.

Every minute he spent, every _second_ , that he spent in the Empty was increasing his chances of not being able to get out. But he couldn’t leave yet. Not when he hadn’t even found someone amidst the darkness. It was just truly empty, and Lucifer started to fear that he might genuinely not do what needed to be done.

“Well, look at you. Hail Sam, full of Grace.”

Lucifer spun around. The face that still haunted him stood before him, looking as she had last: long dark hair, leather jacket, calculating gleam in her eyes. Well, at least he could find people. This just happened to be the last person he’d wanted to see. “Ruby,” he said disdainfully.

The demon didn’t seem the least bit surprised to see him. In fact, she was regarding him with something disturbingly like awe. “What?” he snapped. “I have things to do.”

“You have no idea how much I’ve waited for this moment,” Ruby said, almost wistfully. “This was all I wanted, you know? To see Lucifer come to his glory again, and here you are. Well. A lot more dead than I’d been hoping but hey, we never see things the way we expect them to go, huh?”

It was all Sam who turned on her, lips curled up into a snarl. “You lured me around, got me hooked on demon blood, lied to me, helped divide me from my brother, and you’re having a _fan moment_?”

“I was on your side!” Ruby insisted. “All I wanted was for you to seize your true potential with Lucifer’s Grace, and you did that! You took him on as a vessel!”

She’d known nothing, then. She’d been as clueless as the rest. “No, you got played,” Sam told her. “It was never about Lucifer or his vessel. It had everything to do with ending the world as we know it.”

Ruby just crossed her arms and gave him the look he remembered too well: the look that said she wasn’t impressed. Once, hooked on the blood, he would’ve done anything he could to get that look off her face, because she’d become the only one who’d been on his side. Or so he’d stupidly thought. Now, it just made him turn away from her. He had someone else to find.

“Hey! _Hey_! I didn’t deserve to die!”

“No one does,” Sam tossed over his shoulder. “Except you.”

A sudden cry of rage made him jump away on instinct to where Ruby had indeed tried to rush him. Her eyes were black and full of hatred. “I did everything right,” she swore angrily. “And you still screwed it up somehow! You were supposed to reign victorious! I was going to be the Queen of Lucifer and you _killed me_!”

A blade came down and swiped through her, and she disappeared in a sudden poof, like a cloud from a magician’s hat. Sam stared at the being holding the blade. “I think she’d be what Gabriel affectionately refers to as a ‘groupie’,” she said.

“Sidria,” Sam whispered, relief coursing through him. The angel smiled a little before her lips turned down. “What’s wrong?”

“You’re here,” Sidria said quietly. “Not that I’m unhappy to see you, I’m not. But I died to keep you from being here, and you still wound up here all the same. I tried to save Ellen too. I failed.”

“No, you didn’t,” he said emphatically, “in any shape or form. Ellen’s alive and safe, thanks to you. And I’m…sort of here of my own accord. Not really here, not really there.” Something that Dean was bound to be pissed off about when he found out but they were running out of options and time. Sacrificing his brothers wasn’t something Sam was willing to do.

Sidria stared. “You’re walking through the Empty?” she said, aghast. “But…but that’s not possible!”

“Improbable. Not impossible, apparently, but hey, Lucy can do whatever he wants, can’t he?”

In an instant Sidria stood in front of Lucifer. Not that it would make much of a difference, here, but Lucifer appreciated the effort. Especially since the face in front of him was one he’d rather forget.

“Zachariah.”

The angel shrugged, then gave that smirk that Lucifer wanted to punch off of his face. “Not exactly. Think of me as the doorman. And the groundskeeper. And everything that should be asleep and resting but currently isn’t, thanks to you. So get off my lawn.”

Lucifer frowned. “I don’t understand.”

“Of course you don’t. Insipid little archangel, thinks he can do whatever he wants.” Zachariah crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow. “You can call me the Empty.”

Sidria glanced back at Lucifer, bewildered. Not that he blamed her, because he was feeling confused himself. “That’s where we are.”

“No, that’s who you’re with,” Zachariah, the Empty, cut in. “The Empty is more than a place. It’s a living, breathing being that is _tired_. And I’d like to go back to sleep, just like everyone else who should be asleep. But there’s plenty of demons and angels waking up now because you popped in for, what, a visit? What makes you so damn special that you get to walk all over me and keep me awake?”

Nothing that Father had told them could’ve prepared Lucifer for this. Wandering through the Empty, that was one thing, but to have it appear as a person and talk back was…interesting. And far more dangerous. “I don’t intend on staying,” Lucifer assured it. “I need information, and then I’m going.”

“What does this look like, a prison interview room?” the Empty snapped. Zachariah’s face twisted into disgust. “You don’t just get to walk in and do as you please. You’re here now, and you’re mine.”

“No he’s not,” Sidria said, raising her blade again. “Lucifer, go, get out of here.”

The Empty didn’t look put out. It looked calculating, now, and Lucifer didn’t like the gleam in its eyes. “Why you’re awake, I don’t know, but you can both sleep together. Or, uh, not in the biblical sense, that is. But I need sleep and you need to _sleep_.”

“If you don’t let me talk to who I need to talk to, there’s going to be a lot more angels flooding through,” Lucifer said desperately. “They’ll keep you awake, keep you busy. You won’t sleep for a long, long time.”

Zachariah’s body went still and his eyes narrowed. Lucifer fought to keep his breathing even. How long had he been down here? How long did he still have? The tether felt secure but that didn’t mean anything. His hand refused to draw attention to it, and he felt it burn his chest from where it hung.

Finally the Empty spoke. “Then go speak to who you must, and then get out of here. Or I’ll eat you up, little archangel. And you, back to sleep.”

“I need her,” Lucifer said suddenly. His hand rested on Sidria’s shoulder, his mind spinning. He didn’t even know if it was possible but Heaven above, he had to _try._ “To help keep me safe from the others.”

The Empty cocked its head, Zachariah’s gaze still piercing. “I know what you want,” it said, and it gave Zachariah’s vile grin. “And I’m going to allow it because I’m amused. If you get what you’re looking for and manage to find your way back, you can take the noisy, awake one with you. If you don’t, then I keep you both.” It snapped its fingers and an hourglass settled in the air, strands of sand quickly moving to the bottom. “Tick, tock.”

“Lucifer, go,” Sidria urged, and they took off running through the dark.


	28. Chapter 28

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wrapping up this segment. Y'all know there'll be more angst behind it.
> 
> I have had the world's shittiest night so I am posting this for y'all now, because I think it'll be enjoyed. And that makes me happy, to know that you've enjoyed it. <3

“I can’t.”

The admission hurt to give. What hurt even more was the look on Gabriel’s face, the hope fading from his eyes. Dean began to speak again, then couldn’t.

They stood in the old panic room, gathered all together. Eventually Bobby had come out to him, pulling him up from the gravel and holding on as tightly as he could. “We’ll figure this out,” he’d murmured roughly. “I swear to you, Dean. We’re not letting him go that easy.”

But now, here in the quiet of the room, everyone watching him, Sam all but dead behind him, he couldn’t match the enthusiasm of Bobby’s promise or Raphael’s insistence that he could do the impossible. Dean wrapped his arms around himself and shook his head again. “We can, we can pull him out—”

“There’s not enough strength on that side,” Raphael said, his eyes full of determination. “Someone needs to help stabilize the tether on that side.”

“You’re askin’ him to go where Lucifer’s gone,” Bobby said lowly. “Lose both of ‘em.”

“No, not like this. What Lucifer did was all but kill himself.” Gabriel’s sharp inhale wasn’t lost on Raphael, who softened his tone. “What _we’re_ going to do is a portal. And then Michael will be able to pull him back out.”

“I’m not Michael,” Dean said again, shutting his eyes tightly. “Raph, I’m, I’m not.”

“Yes you _are_.”

“I don’t have the Grace to walk into the Empty—”

“We felt you.”

Dean paused. Gabriel frowned, and even Castiel looked bewildered. Only Raphael stood, so sure and confident, that it made Dean want to believe him. “What?”

“When you went outside and grieved, we felt it.” Raphael stepped forward, almost smiling. “It went through the entire Host, echoed through our very beings. Prayers don’t do that, Dean. _Michael_. What we felt was _your Grace_.”

Dean couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t. Because the dawning realization on Castiel’s face, the growing hope on Gabriel’s, it was almost more than he could handle.

Raphael reached out and rested a strong hand on his shoulder. “If anyone has a chance of rescuing him,” he said quietly. “It’s you, big brother.”

After a moment, Dean slowly nodded. Whatever it took to get his little brother back, he’d do it, and Raphael knew it. They all knew it. He’d storm Purgatory, Hell, the Empty itself, all a dozen times over if it meant getting Lucifer back safe and sound. There was nothing he wouldn’t do.

“We still need to find the tether,” Ellen said. She stood at the door beside Rufus and Anael, and she was resolutely not looking at Sam. Which Dean appreciated, really, but it only made him all the more conscious of his little brother’s body lying cold behind him.

He pulled himself back as Ellen continued. “He’s got it on him, right?”

“Not necessarily,” Castiel said. “With his Grace, it just needs to be something he’s very connected to. Something he was certain wouldn’t be destroyed or lost.”

“A person?” Jo asked, her eyes on Dean.

Dean shook his head. “No, a token, something with far more stability than a person.”

“But it’s here, right?” Rufus asked.

Raphael shrugged. “Most likely, yes. Anael, do you have the spell?”

“We do. We’ll have it ready as soon as you need us to.”

“Spell?”

“For finding the tether,” Anna said. “It shouldn’t be too hard or take too long.”

They were running out of time. Dean could feel it. “Get it done, now.”

In an instant the angels were in motion. Ellen and Bobby demanded to help and Rufus didn’t waste time jumping in, all of them eager to finally help and _do_ something. Dean began to move to join them but found himself stopped by Raphael. “What you need to do now is focus on your Grace. You need to keep hold of it.”

“I don’t know how,” Dean protested, because it wasn’t something he could just take hold of like a steering wheel. It didn’t work that way, and Raphael knew it.  
“Just _try_.”

He did, all while everyone else pulled together a table and bowl, ingredients and matches. He tried to figure out why the Grace appeared when it did while they poured and mixed. Even while they carefully drew Sam’s blood, even while they said the words and lit the match, Dean still had no clue as to how he was supposed to catch hold of the Grace that seemed to come and go as it pleased.

The only thing he _could_ do was ask. And plead.

_I need you. Lucifer needs us. Please come back online._

The match dropped, the wind gusted out. For a long moment, no one breathed.

Then a small pink dot rose from the bowl, gooey and formed from the blood spilled. Dean watched it hover in the air, gritty eyes ready to track it to wherever it went.

The only two people he couldn’t bear to look were at Sam or Gabriel. His youngest brother still couldn’t seem to find his voice, instead moving where he had to, getting what he needed. Guilt hung around him like a shroud and Dean wanted to scream at him, wanted to shake him, tell him it wasn’t his fault. No one could’ve guessed what Sam would’ve done.

If he looked at Sam, he really was going to lose it completely.

The pink ball moved. Dean whipped his head to the side as it moved around the room, bouncing as delicately as a mass of herbs and blood could, and then—

Straight to Dean. Dean backed away, almost frantically, as it came at him, but then it hovered just in front of him. “The hell,” Bobby began, but then Dean shut his eyes because he knew. _He knew_.

The amulet hung as it always did around his neck, but of course Sam would’ve used it. His tie to Dean as the tether to keep him attached to this world. It made him want to scream again.

_How could you do this? How could you be so damn stupid?_

_Why didn’t you tell me? Why didn’t you take me with you?_

Time and time again, Sam had been taken from him. And time and time again, Dean had fought to get him back. Death was just another obstacle to be moved around because Sam wasn’t supposed to be wrapped in Death’s claws. Sam was meant to be alive, bright and vibrant. Not barely breathing, giving his life for the cause.

It made him think of the letter that Sam had left for him, the one they’d discovered clutched in his hand. His eyes burned again, painfully so, and he shoved it down as far as he could. He wasn’t reading it. Wasn’t. Raphael had said it didn’t have anything except a personal note to him, and Dean sure as hell wasn’t reading a death note.

Ellen cleared her throat. “If that’s the tether, can you use that to get to him?”

“Yes,” Raphael said, and Dean bit his tongue until he tasted blood. There was no guarantee that it would work. Lucifer’s magic was, as always, solid work, but the Empty played for keeps. _Once you go to the Empty, you do not come back._

He’d missed some of what Raphael had said. He forced himself to tune back in. “…to get to Lucifer. Unfortunately, the hardest part is that none of us can use it easily. The only one who might have a chance is Michael.”

“What do you mean?” Bobby asked lowly. “You tellin’ me you can’t?”

“I’m telling you that as much as I want to, that tether is fragile and tied specifically to Lucifer,” Raphael told him, face creased with pain and regret. “It’s not tied to me or Gabriel, it’s—"

“It’s tied to me.”

All eyes turned to Dean. Dean cast his eyes down to his chest where the amulet hung, then back up to the others. “It’s tied to me, too,” he said. His voice sounded as numb as he felt. “It’s my amulet. A gift from him to me.”

“Love,” Castiel said quietly. “His love for you. The spell would’ve demanded something of utmost importance, the strongest feeling he could endeavor to find. It doesn’t surprise me that that’s what he chose.”

Dean swallowed painfully against the hard lump in his throat and caught hold of the amulet. “Raph, the spell.”

Raphael stared at him and Dean knew what he was looking for, he knew it. Still, when Raphael’s face fell, when he said quietly, almost gently, “You can’t,” Dean was in his face, glaring down at his younger brother. Raphael didn’t back down, only making him all the angrier. “Dean, I thought you could, but, but you can’t. I shouldn’t have asked it of you, I’m sorry.”

“The _fuck_ I can’t—”

“You don’t have enough Grace,” Castiel said, voice barely more than a breath, but Dean froze as if he’d shouted. Beside him, Gabriel looked small and miserable as he leaned against the far wall, but he still didn’t say a thing. Castiel cleared his throat. “If it was there before, it’s not there now.”

“I should not have put so much on you,” Raphael said, shutting his eyes tightly. “I’d hoped that…” He turned and looked away. “Forgive me.”

Dean clenched his fists tighter and tighter until his fingernails cut into his skin. The pain gave him something to focus on besides Jo and Ellen’s pale, drawn faces, Rufus’s eyes glued to the floor, Ezekiel and Anael and Anna standing by their sides, Castiel drifting between Bobby and Gabriel, Raphael standing lost and alone, and—

And Sam, silent, nearly dead. Looking about the same as he had when he’d been knifed in Cold Oak.

“I’m your best shot,” Dean told him. “You said you saw my Grace, heard it. Just, just, just let me _try_.”

Raphael watched him for a long moment before he slowly nodded. Dean let out a shuddering breath and stepped off to the side. “What do I need to do?” he asked quietly.

“I’ll chant, you just hold on and try to, well, reach for him,” Raphael said. “He’s on the other end. Without your Grace, I can’t send you through, so you’ll have to center yourself on this side. You’ll be the rope instead of the rescue harness, of a sort.”

Tug of war, a game. That’s all this was. Dean centered himself and closed his eyes. Then, before he could second-guess himself, he caught hold of the amulet in his hands.

Raphael’s voice started around him, low and full of Enochian. Dean caught a few words, _offering_ and _entrance_ and _hidden_. He tried to block it out and put himself back on the amulet.

And Sam. Completely on Sam.

Memories were a good place to start. There were the typical memories he thought of: Sam as a little one following behind him, Sam studying, Sam grieving Jess. Sam hunting beside him, pranking with him, smiling as they shared a beer.

_I’m here, big brother._

Dean shut his eyes tighter. Sam had done this, a handful of months ago, after Cain had left Dean lost. Memory upon memory, building him up, offering him strength and confidence when Cain had made him feel as if he’d certainly kill his brother. Sam had given him the determination to turn away the prophecy if just because nothing would make him turn on Sam. Nothing would make him leave Sam behind.

_We go together, remember? We always go together. I learned that from the best._

He couldn’t leave Sam alone in there. He couldn’t. _Wouldn’t_.

Other memories flooded in, promises made that Dean didn’t intend to break.

_“As long as I’m around, nothing bad is gonna happen to you.”_

_“I believe in you, little brother.”_

_“Keeping you safe is part of who I am.”_

_“I’m not letting go. So don’t you dare let go. You hear me, little brother? Don’t let go. We go together.”_

It was all he’d ever wanted: his little brother, safe and sound. He’d have given anything for that to happen. He still would.

_We always go together. I learned that from the best._

Damn straight he had.

He never noticed the burning feeling through his chest, echoing through his very being. Somewhere, there was a song being sung, but there was a voice missing, the most important voice of all, and he needed it back.

There: an echo of that voice, the one he knew better than any other.

In a flash he was gone, leaving behind a room full of stunned faces except for one that changed to hope, eyes glowing gold, as he spoke for the first time and prayed, _“_ Please, please, please find Luce, _please.”_

They were running through an empty space when, all of a sudden, they weren’t.

Lucifer slammed to a stop in order to avoid running into the being in front of them. “The Empty?” he asked, hoping and praying that it wasn’t.

He got a snort. “You think I’m that stupid, sniveling, _insipid_ excuse of a realm keeper? Please.”

“Hello to you, too, Metatron,” Lucifer said dryly.

Metatron crossed his arms. “Please tell me that Michael killed you. Please. It would do me a world of good.”

“I’m not really dead,” Lucifer informed him. “I’m here for answers.”

Metatron actually paused, head tilting to the side to look at him. “You mean to tell me that somehow, you infiltrated the Empty on your own powers?”

“Guess you shouldn’t have underestimated him,” Sidria said with a smug look. “Twice now.”

“More than that,” Lucifer added. Metatron looked seriously pissed off. Good. “I mean, his idea of a plot was more like some sort of half-baked novel—”

“There was _nothing_ half-baked about my plan!” Metatron shouted. “I had it all under control! And I know that Tabbris is doing just what I asked of him like a _good_ angel, following God’s orders.”

“You’re not God,” Lucifer snapped. “You wouldn’t be down here if you were God.”

Metatron bared his teeth, absolutely fuming now. “I’d have had Heaven, Hell, _and_ Earth in the palm of my hand! What do you think of _that_?”

Lucifer made a show of rolling his shoulders and appearing bored despite the confirmation of what he’d guessed. “We know about that already. Like I said, half-baked. Leviathans? Eve? C’mon. It’s like some cheap B-rated flick. Tabbris isn’t exactly your best foot-soldier, either.”

“He’s obeying orders,” Metatron insisted. “If he Falls, that’s not my problem.”

Lucifer felt his mouth drop open in shock. “You disgust me,” Sidria spat. “You know nothing about what you unleased. You might be able to control some of the angels, but you can’t control the Leviathans.”

When Metatron stalked towards them, Sidria raised her blade. “You think I would’ve just let the Leviathans out and not been able to manage them?” Metatron seethed. “Do you think I’m that stupid? Ha! I had all the tablets in hand! The Words of God, ready to use at any time! I could’ve dealt with the Leviathans, demons, angels, anyone!”

“You think we can’t do that?” Lucifer said, mind spinning. The Words of God: the stone tablets that Metatron had inscribed at Father’s decree, his own history and recipe book. That’s what Metatron was banking on? “We can lock Heaven down, too, and we will.” Sidria inhaled sharply, surprised, but Lucifer kept his face passive. Let Metatron think they knew everything: he was already coughing up all the information they needed.

That made Metatron pause again, but this time, he began to laugh. Lucifer blinked as Metatron folded over, all but cackling. That…wasn’t what he’d expected. “What?” Sidria said angrily.

“That’s _priceless_ ,” Metatron said, all but howling with laughter. “You mean to tell me that you’re going to lock Heaven down anyway? Man, and that was my shot in the dark.”

Lucifer went still. Beside him, Sidria frowned. “What do you mean, your shot in the dark?”

“You wanted Heaven locked down,” Lucifer said slowly. “You wanted all the angels trapped upstairs. That’s what you were going to do with the tablet, right?”

“No,” Metatron said, shaking his head. “The tablet does far more than that. That tablet doesn’t just lock the gates, it can serve eviction notices first.”

The implications made Lucifer go cold. Kick angels out? All angels, or just the ones Metatron wanted out? But if they were kicked out and cut off from Heaven, they’d lose their Grace—

They’d Fall. They’d be human. And Metatron would’ve owned every part of Heaven with no way to dislodge him.

That’s what he’d wanted. Complete and utter domination over Heaven and Earth. No, more than that, Heaven and Earth and Hell, which was why Abaddon had gotten involved. Metatron had probably promised Abaddon the throne for her work, but would’ve just taken it back. Maybe even offered it to Tabbris to be the new Devil. The Leviathans would’ve eaten everyone anyway before Metatron could’ve scripted them back to Purgatory, his own personal cleaning crew.

_That’s_ what the Leviathans had been really there for: someone else for them to focus on, someone else to do the dirty work while he’d continued building in the background. Plan C, plan F, plan Z squared, it didn’t matter. As far as Metatron had been concerned, all roads had led to Rome. Besides, if they ate all of humanity, well, that made things ten times easier for him, didn’t it?

Then he would’ve kicked all the angels down to Earth and probably fed the Leviathans a little more. Once they’d cleaned up Hell, Earth, _and_ Heaven, Metatron could’ve done pretty much anything he’d wanted. It was just a matter of trying to understand _why_ he wanted all three.

All of it fell into place in an instant, and Lucifer fought to keep his face even, because he didn’t think Metatron had known what he’d tossed out. “It wouldn’t have done what you wanted,” he said, putting as much contempt into his voice as he could. “Besides, the three tablets have been lost for centuries. You don’t know where they are.”

“You think as the scribe I couldn’t _write_ them to the location I wanted?” Metatron said, snorting. “Please. And they were exactly where I needed them to be to do what I needed to do. Not that I wanted to come down to Earth, but the prophet was easy to find. I just dropped all three with Chuck and told him to hold onto them under pain of death.”

“Then what?” Lucifer asked. “King of absolutely nothing? Everything empty?”

“Empty of everything except what _I_ wanted in place,” Metatron boasted. “Without any of God’s previous creations lurking around, I could make whatever I wanted happen. Populate the world with walking dolphins, make my own form of beings that would worship me. The possibilities were _endless_. I just needed to make it a clean slate first.” He threw his arms out to the side. “And when I became creator of everything, then I _would_ be God. I would’ve ascended.”

Lucifer stared at him, then slowly shook his head. The scope of what Metatron had intended had gone beyond even Lucifer’s preliminary thoughts. “You can’t do any of that now, being dead.”

Metatron scoffed. “You got in here. Tabbris will find out how to dig me out.”

“You’re insane.”

“No, I’m just smarter than you. And yes, ‘bright one’, I can do whatever I wanted with any of it.”

Lucifer’s Grace surged through him, bright and angry. “Don’t you dare call me that. Don’t you _dare_.”

“I like _monster_ more.”

Lucifer spun around, Sidria, sliding in front of him. There was Zachariah, looking just as smarmy and smug as he had while alive. But this time, it was clearly not the Empty. No, the anger in his eyes was all him. “That’s why I crafted the voicemail the way I did,” Zachariah said with a shrug. “I mean, if the shoe fits, right?”

“It doesn’t fit at all,” Sidria snapped. “If anything, it would apply better to you.”

Zachariah just ignored her, eyes on Lucifer. “Yeah, but you wouldn’t have believed it if you hadn’t felt it applied.” Lucifer tightened his hands into fists. “And you wouldn’t have believed who it was coming from unless you thought that your big brother really believed those things.”

Suddenly he came forward, slashing with his angel blade. Sidria swung back, blocking it, and then Lucifer spun around as Metatron gave a yell. His blade was longer and more like a pole, and Lucifer managed to throw him off. Mastermind though he may have been, a fighter he wasn’t.

The amulet pulled at his neck.

Lucifer froze. No. No no _no_. He couldn’t be out of time. But the tether felt like it was being pulled, and there was a real chance that he was going to be locked down here in the Empty forever. Worse, that he’d be locked in without being able to tell the others what he’d learned.

With a roar he turned and shoved Zachariah off from where Sidria was holding him off. “Sid, hold on to me!” Lucifer shouted. They were leaving, and they were leaving _now_.

Suddenly he found himself flying through the air. He landed on his side, hard enough that he gasped for air. He managed to push himself up just in time to see Metatron swing above him, the same pole weapon in his hands. Lucifer immediately rolled to the side just as the pole came down.

“Don’t think I don’t know what you’ve got hanging around your neck,” Metatron seethed. “You were stupid enough to use that thing to get in here, and I’m going to be smart enough to use it to get _out_ of here. Then you can rot in here like you were supposed to in the first place. I can put everything back in order and you can wait here for that stupid, insolent, useless archangel, the way you were supposed to!”

This time he stomped his foot out and slammed it down on Lucifer’s wing. Pain shot through the wing and Lucifer couldn’t get himself free. In an instant Metatron brought the pole down, aiming straight for Lucifer’s head.

Light burst out, bright and hot and _furious_. Metatron and Zachariah both flew backwards in the assault as six beautiful and white wings flared, clearly protecting Lucifer.

Then a voice that Lucifer hadn’t heard in too long, one he knew better than any other, rang out. **_“I prefer the term ‘big brother’.”_**

The light flared again, pushing Zachariah and Metatron back. **_“Go,”_** came the order, and Lucifer scrambled to his feet, wing pulsing in pain. It still didn’t keep him from catching hold of his quarry with said wing, earning a gasp as he shoved her behind him.

Metatron was already getting up, struggling to his feet, as was Zachariah. The six wings bristled dangerously, keeping them at bay, but suddenly someone else was there, standing between them and the two other angels.

Sidria almost surged forward but Lucifer held her back. “Naomi!”

“Go,” Naomi insisted, her blade drawn. She glanced back at them and then shooed them on. “I said go!”

“Naomi,” Lucifer began, but this time, when she glanced back, it was all there in her eyes. They were clear and bright, not the confused gaze he’d last seen on her.

He got it, then. Better to be dead and whole than alive but not herself. “Thank you,” he called. _Thank you, Naomi._

She gave a firm nod and turned back to Zachariah and Metatron. Beyond them, a figure formed, liquid and molten and coming towards them faster than Lucifer wanted. The Empty, if Lucifer had to guess.

Past time to leave.

Even before he could do anything, however, a hand reached back and caught hold of him, and he barely had time to reach out to the side and firmly catch hold of a smaller hand before they were gone. One moment, they were in the blackness that was the Empty, and then the next, they were in Bobby’s basement, several people scuttling backwards at their appearance.

Panting breaths were the only thing that broke the silence. Lucifer watched as they all stared in shock at the figure that stood in front of Sam, that all but loomed over Lucifer. It was sort of hard not to, given the amount of light pouring off of the being and his bright green eyes, brighter still with Grace.

It made it all the easier to see the pursed lips, the flared nostrils, the sheer amount of fury and _terror_ in his eyes. “You came,” Lucifer breathed.

Eyes flared with even more green. “I’ve told you time and time again that I go where you go, I’d follow you no matter where you go, you stupid fucking _asshole_ , what part of you thought that the Empty was any different than anywhere else?”

Halfway between being chewed out and cursed at, Lucifer quickly found his feet, wings trembling behind him, and he dove straight at his brother. Arms came up and held him tight, tugging him down onto a familiar shoulder, all but crushing him with the embrace. Six wings came around him and Lucifer shut his eyes against the tears that sprang up.

_Michael_.

“I will _always_ follow you,” Michael breathed harshly, gripping all the more to Lucifer. “You idiot, you numbskull, you, you _idiot_. I almost couldn’t find you, and then you would’ve been trapped there, without me.”

A faint, “Holy _fuck_ ,” was all the warning they got before Gabriel hit them hard from the side. Wings threatened to get tangled when Raphael joined them and it wasn’t going to help Lucifer’s crying any. Somehow, Michael wound up with more arms to hold them all, and they stood there for a minute, taking deep gulping breaths and clinging to each other.

“Michael?”

Lucifer turned to where Bobby and the others stood, eyes wide. “That’s Grace, right?” Bobby said. “I’m seein’ Grace?”

“Yeah,” Michael said, and he managed a smile. “It’s Grace. And it’s mine.”

Slowly Bobby made his way forward and Gabriel shifted to let him in. Close enough to touch, Bobby stopped, his eyes wide now with awe and reverence.

Then he turned and slapped Lucifer up the back of his head. “Ow,” Lucifer said petulantly, feeling all of five and being caught climbing the bookshelves again.

“You _ass_ ,” Bobby hissed, and then Lucifer was being dragged into his embrace. “The hell were you thinking? No, don’t answer that. I don’t think my blood pressure can take it.”

“It was absolutely _not_ my idea,” Gabriel declared firmly. “If I’d known what you were planning, I never would’ve given you the scroll. Seriously? You _died_ , you nitwit. That’s how we knew what happened, we felt you _die_.”

Oh. _Oh._ He cringed at that because that hadn’t been part of his plan at all. “You didn’t know,” Bobby said, still mad but his eyes widened a bit in realization. “You had no damn clue, did you.”

“No. Not at all. That wasn’t…Okay, knowing that now, it wasn’t ideal,” he admitted, and Sam carefully disengaged himself to look at the others. Every single one of them looked relieved and seriously pissed off. Fair. “But it was the only shot we had—”

“Then you tell someone,” Raphael said, blue light flaring in his eyes. “You don’t just, just go off to the _Empty_.”

From behind Bobby, Anael and Ezekiel both shuddered. “Yeah, I know. But it was worth it,” Sam said, and he nodded to beyond Michael. As one, everyone turned.

She’d been hidden by Michael’s shining brilliance, but with his Grace now muted, it was easier to see her. She smiled slightly, just a little, tucking her blonde hair behind her ear. “That wasn’t exactly fun,” she said. “Let’s not do that again.”

“ _Sidria,_ ” Anael gasped, then got moving. Castiel beat her to it, pulling Sidria into his embrace and tucking her head beneath his chin. Ezekiel hurried over to join the growing group, and Raphael hesitated for a moment.

Just a moment. “Go,” Michael urged. “We’re not going anywhere. And I’ve got a hold of the trouble magnet.”

“I still like ‘trouble lure’ better,” Gabriel said. He hadn’t let go of Sam, and didn’t look like he was going to anytime soon. Not that Sam could blame him. He didn’t really want to let go of where he had his fingers tucked into Michael’s shirt, anyway.

Safe. Home. His brothers wrapped around him, his family close at hand.

“Didn’t think you were in it for a rescue mission,” Bobby said. “But I’m happy to see her again.” Anna had made her way over to the group, tentatively, but then Sidria tugged her in and the hesitation melted away. Jo looked all the more thrilled, all but barreling into the angel and holding on tight. Then she hugged Ezekiel for good measure, and oh, that was an interesting color on Zeke’s face. His Grace went a funny color, too.

“You’re not allowed to smile,” Michael said, glaring at him. “I’m still way too pissed off at you to be okay with you finding Ezekiel’s crush amusing.”

“I got what I need,” Sam told him. It wasn’t said loud, but enough that the others heard. All attention went to him, and he cleared his throat, stepped back a bit from Michael. It looked as if it pained Michael to let him go, but he did. “I know what Metatron’s big plans were.”

“For Purgatory?” Raphael asked.

Sam nodded. “And beyond that. I know what he wanted to do, and more importantly, I know how to shut it all down. Metatron didn’t know how much he coughed up, but we can undo it.” He glanced at Michael and gave a hopeful smile. “We can save everyone. We can put the Leviathans away, we can stop what Tabbris was ordered to do. And we don’t have to close Heaven to do it.”

The worry on Michael’s face still hung, tinged with fury, but after a moment he got a Dean grin in response. “Then let’s handle it and be done. Together.”

Sam smiled. _And then pass out._

_You and me both, kiddo,_ he heard echo through him, and he shut his eyes in dizzying relief. Michael was there. His big brother had come for him and they were going to close Purgatory, send the Leviathans back, and keep everyone safe.

Then he was going to pass out.


End file.
